


Melody Of Fools

by Identiaetslos



Series: Alex Ryder Story Arcs [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Crazy About Someone You Hate, Eventual Smut, F/F, I Gotta Explain This Well So Bear With Me On The Angst, Im In Lesbians, Masturbation, Nexus Uprising Spoilers, Romance, Sladdison - Freeform, Tiring Out Faces, Unconventional Ship, Wrong Yet Perfect Together, Yes I am making Sladdison a thing, long story, lots and lots of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Identiaetslos/pseuds/Identiaetslos
Summary: Facing the possibility of being reunited for the first time since the Uprising, Sloane Kelly and Foster Addison find themselves at odds with each other again...and with a complicated relationship.What if one of the reasons why Addison is always mean and angry is that she was secretly in love with Sloane? What if Sloane really felt the same way?WARNING: MASSIVE SPOILERSMASS EFFECT: NEXUS UPRISING





	1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

 

 _Youth was a gift for the foolish_ , Sloane mused. Alec Ryder's replacement as Pathfinder, _Alex_ Ryder stood before her, poorly lit in what currently passed as her headquarters. She was olive skinned, round features, dark hair tied into a short pony tail behind her head, and eyes that glinted of a quicker wit than Tann probably gave her credit for. She appeared small, but only because of this godforsaken chair she sat on.

Since her arrival in Heleus, Alex had been making quite the name for herself: The Angara were certainly impressed already. Her reputation was professional, rational, even tempered...though Sloane wondered if the last bit was because no one had bothered to really test her. Alex was smart enough to respect Sloane's ordinance on firearms, but she didn't need a weapon to be lethal. Her biotics, and the fact she had been actively using them in combat, made her a formidable weapon.

Alex stood well next to her Krogan guards, arms folded at her chest, and glowered contemptuously at Sloane. She had done her homework, Sloane mused. Probably the asshole Nexus leaders fed her an earful too. Despite any misgivings about Alex's loyalty, the confidence she displayed was enough to impress Sloane, and even made Kaetus shift his posture so that his Carnifex was in easier reach.

The Initiative uniform she wore didn't fit her particularly well. Not just because her youthful body was adapting itself to the idea of doing actual work, which was changing the way the fabric responded to her, but the discomfort caused by her circumstances. Sloane could tell she was trying the best she could...but it wasn't for Tann or Addison or anyone else. No no...the stories behind her dark eyes, squared shoulders, and the tattoo on her neck and even more elaborate tapestry poking out from under her sleeves told another story. Like everyone else that had arrived in Andromeda, she suddenly found herself having to prove her capabilities despite inexperience, or any demons that lurked beneath the skin. Something that Sloane understood all too well.

Alex was ignorant and wasn't here to understand Sloane at all. She was here for information. Hopefully, that's all it was, but knowing the task of a soldier and one expected to be the hero, the former Nexus Security Director suspected Alex to poke around. She'd leave little tidbits here and there, and maybe ask Kaetus to throw her a bone to make Alex feel like she was accomplishing something; maybe fatten her ego enough to think that the Initiative could establish an outpost here. _No...way too dangerous._ She thought.

Sloane had already done her part, and directed the youngster to the jail cell where Vehn Terev was being held. That should be enough, but it wasn't.

"One other thing," Alex said. She produced a datapad from one of her pockets. "I brought a message from Addison."

The name struck a match inside Sloane's brain. Remembering herself, she swallowed her rage as quick as her tongue, letting out the aftermath with a sardonic laugh. "I have no interest in what that slimy bitch has to say." She did her best to keep her voice even, low, acerbic. She glared at the Pathfinder menacingly, hoping that would be enough to scare Alex away from pushing the issue.

The Pathfinder wasn't intimidated at all, and instead lifted a shapely dark eyebrow as if to challenge her. Alex set the datapad down on the floor of her headquarters and backed away. "Just in case you change your mind."

Fat chance. The image of Addison gazing apologetically at her flashed to the forefront of her mind and uncorked temper. She didn't need to know what Addison had to say. Knowing her, it was more emptiness, more lies, more gaslighting. Sloane glanced at Zaw, the Krogan to the right of Alex, and nodded.

Knowing instinctively what the Outcast leader had in mind, Zaw picked up the datapad and broke it in half.

"My mind is pretty well made up, Pathfinder." Sloane said. "Ta." She waved her hand dismissively.

Alex didn't have a retort. Instead, she looked disappointed, but not with the fact that Sloane refused to read the message. Even if she had an idea, it was whatever Addison told her. Perhaps in the eternal sunlight of the Nexus, underneath a fresh grove of trees in hydroponics, Addison relayed the story of what was. The dark times when the Nexus was being ripped to shreds by the Scourge, and the two of them worked side-by-side like a couple of cartoon assholes. Of course, that's all that Addison would admit to. Not everything else; the betrayal, the lies, and the fact that they might have once been a little more than friends.

Once the door to her headquarters closed, sealing Alex Ryder's prying eyes from anything and everything in this room, she rose from the "throne" as Ryder had called it and descended the stairs to where the shards of the datapad were. Perhaps breaking it had been a little dramatic. _No...it's exactly how I feel._ Addison would know that better than anyone.

Sloane growled angrily, shoving her thoughts aside, and kicked the shards into a dark corner of the room before returning to her chair.


	2. Curiosity

Except for the guards inside and outside her door, everyone had gone to sleep. Her "office" was empty affording her a few moments of rare silence. With a hand across her braids, Sloane ventured wearily from her bed chambers, her head a cloud of memories. In addition to her interaction earlier with Alex Ryder, the mention of Addison and her supposed message for her had sent her into a series of flashbacks to her time on the Nexus. Bruised, scarred, broken, that was an accurate picture of what the Nexus was the last time she saw it, and it was also an accurate description of the dream that had brought them all here; a dream that she had shared, at one point, with the fools on the Nexus: Jarun Tann and Foster Addison.

She and Addison had shared a testy working relationship, and a complicated personal one. Perhaps, in some ways too much alike to really get a long. Where Sloane pushed, Addison pushed back even harder, trying to be that middle ground between her and Tann; often the tie breaker between Tann's indifference and Sloane's passion.

Addison was a stubborn snob who loved the allusion of control. While she put on the air of a prissy fucking princess who abhorred confrontation, there were times Sloane knew that, like her, Addison took perverse pleasure in it. There were fleeting moments where Addison put on a brave face, showed signs of being the leader that she had hoped to be before Tann's arrival. However, like many Staff Officers that Sloane had served under, she lacked the temerity to really be suitable for the post of Director of the Initiative.

Outside of Operations, there were times when the two of them shared as close to an amiable relationship as they could get. Sloane recalled sharing a laugh with her on a few occasions, a furtive smile behind Tann's back, brainstorming with her on the fly (which was especially delicious when that beady-eyed toad wasn't around), Addison licking her lips after throwing a Sloane-like expletive at Tann, and well...Sloane let the thought dissipate without touching on it.

At first, Sloane had felt pity for the Colonial Director, but as time wore on, she found it to be self-servingly loathsome. This was made even more apparent the last time she had seen Addison.

Sloane sighed, the memory of the red haired woman at her tribunal flashing before her as though it were yesterday: Her green eyes first lowered in apology and then glaring coldly at her as she ordered the preparation of their shuttles and supplies. This was really their sentence: People that had once been part of the Nexus repair crews, who had also survived the Scourge disaster, were not only to be put off the station, but it came with her blessing. I wish you the best. Addison said. I really do. It had been terse, cold, empty, but it wasn't meant that way.

Foster was good at clapping her emotions shut at a snap. She blamed it on the Scourge, but the ability to close off so quickly was a learned skill. In Addison's defense, she had been trapped between her, Tann, her version of "safety" of the Nexus, and the beloved "mission." Even Sloane couldn't fight that. Though...sometimes in the dead of night on nights like this one, Sloane liked to think that in that moment what really happened was that she broke Addison's heart. Both pain and comfort came along with that thought. Addison had lost two people she'd had a connection with, then Sloane right before her eyes. It was just like Addison... _Addy...Fossy...no...none of that._ She thought, hearing Addison's words loud in her ears again, and feeling the same stab of betrayal, the anger.

"Fuck you." She muttered under her breath.

There it was, in a dark corner behind a chair. She stopped before the shards of the datapad still on the floor from when she kicked them. Somewhere on that stupid thing was some empty apology that massive cunt thought would be good enough to smooth things over. Perhaps so that she could slither her way here along with Tann and Ryder to take over the port that she and the rest of the Outcasts had been running for the Angara on her own. No help from the venerable Colonial Director, who once again, owed her purpose to someone else. _Oh and lets talk about the Pathfinder's "break through" discovery of the Angara,_ Sloane thought angrily to herself. Somehow, Sloane mused, she had managed to do the jobs of all three of those assholes on her own. Addison probably thought that whatever she had to say would be heartfelt and not as empty as her soul--Sloane stopped herself. _Pretty dark even for you, Sloane. She doesn't deserve that._ She said to herself with an outward sigh. The devil on her shoulder replied, _but she does. She sentenced everyone on this planet to death._

Granted, part of the reason that they were all out here was out of Sloane's stubbornness, her pride. Better to be out here than forever asleep onboard that floating buttplug. At what cost? All those people whose names and faces Sloane would never forget, lost because of this woman's inability to see beyond the religion of Jien Garson and the actual faces of those people that her shitty decisions affected. She stopped herself again, remembering Addison's face as she came upon the body after body after the Nexus hit the Scourge, helping Sloane, Kesh and the other survivors move them to the makeshift morgue they had set up. One of the bodies they came upon was T'Vaan, an asari scientist that Sloane recalled holding in her arms as she died. T'Vaan had been killed by falling debris. Her body lay there before Addison twisted, bloody, lifeless. All the color had gone out of Addison's face and her expression contorted into one of profound anguish the likes that Sloane had never seen in anyone, but she didn't cry. She never admitted to T'Vaan being anything more than a member of the science team either, but she never looked at anyone else that way. Of all the people in the Nexus leadership, Addison weathered the disaster worst. Part of Sloane wondered if she ever gave herself time to grieve.

So, she felt the loss, and coped with it how she could, which for her, wasn't great. That's what the Initiative got for putting a Staff Officer in such a position, she mused to herself. And someone who was such a delicate fucking flower.

Enraged curiosity lingered on her mind. She bent down and picked up the shards of the datapad and held them in her hand. She sighed at them, mentally kicking herself for even touching them, being tempted by curiosity. I have no interest in what that slimy bitch has to say. She repeated in her mind, rising to her feet. She didn't, but at the same time, she did.

Sleep was affecting her better judgement, she decided. She shuffled back to her chambers, still clutching the shards. She would really make her decision in the morning...after coffee. Sloane nodded cordially to the Turian guarding her door and slipped through its aperture. Throwing the datapad onto her desk, she collapsed onto the soft sheets of her plushy bed and drifted off.


	3. Girl Talk

_The interior of her bedroom on Kadara slowly faded and soon she found herself standing outside a door on a battered and broken Nexus._

Girl talk...that's what Tann had really suggested when he asked Sloane if she would talk to Addison to try and get her out of her depression. Since Tann had taken over, and the Nexus had suffered yet more damage at the hands of the Scourge, Addison was finding more and more that her job of Colonial Affairs was more distant than she had hoped. As of late, she had been spending more time away from Operations, and more time with either Kesh or locked in a nearby office labeled ADJUTANT COLONIAL AFFAIRS.

Sloane stopped before the door and thought ruefully to herself that even worse for Addison was the fact that her office had been destroyed by the Scourge and she was now forced to take refuge in the office of her assistant. Thankfully, that smarmy little weasel, Spender, had slithered away to another area of the station.

What did girls normally talk about? Sloane wondered. The last time that she remembered having any sort of effeminate conversation was when helping Lieutenant Bartell pick out his dress for the Officer's Ball. That was back on The Citadel, a few mon--no...six hundred years ago. Back then, it was an awkward conversation and nothing had changed since then. She tried to decide whether this was really worth it, or whether she was allowing Tann to bully her into another one of his schemes that would help him retain control.

It probably was. Addison wasn't a loose cannon, but she had been aloof as of late, and the Nexus needed all of its leaders participating. At least before Tann did something stupid, or Sloane threw him out an airlock in a fit of uncontrolled rage.

Back in the Milky Way, Sloane used to take pride in her rage as a form of strength. It's what kept her fresh. In the field, there was little opportunity for niceties. Being indecisive or diplomatic was a good way to lose control of a situation, be it the command of a unit, or a combat situation. Some people only understood brute force. Since the Nexus hit the Scourge, Sloane found herself at odds with this aspect of her personality. It hadn't made her many friends among Nexus leadership apart from maybe Kesh, but secretly she feared that it would, one day, cause much greater damage.

She was fairly confident that she had left the same impression with Addison. In terms of professional life, Addison was the opposite of her: She wasn't a people's soldier. She was the poster child of a staff officer, preferring to remain in a comfortable logistics position, away from people, her friends being spreadsheets and strategies. Despite her irritation with Sloane on the surface, she seemed to appreciate when Sloane would push her out of her comfort zone, or verbally kick her ass when she needed it.

Speaking of Kesh, in an effort to conserve what energy they had left, she had been keeping all non-essential systems offline, which included the doors. The only way to open them was with the manual hand actuators. Sloane sighed, willing her aching muscles to give it one more go, and pulled the actuator, sliding the door open just enough for her to get through.

Inside, the office was dimly lit by a few emergency lights. Addison was propped up on the right arm on a couch that was in the center of the room. It looked like it had been dragged there from another office by the way that it was oriented, cockeyed to the back wall, which had a bunch of random crates stacked against it, and a desk that served no purpose but to occupy space.

Sloane half expected Addison to be asleep the way she was sitting, but a brief movement of her arm told her that she wasn't. Quietly, she turned around and used the actuator on the other side of the door to close it. When she turned back to Addison, she found the Colonial Director facing her, a look of exhaustion and dissipating surprise on her fair features.

"I figured you would eventually find me." She said, the sing-songy lilt to her voice coloring the room for a brief moment. The red light from the emergency lamps softened the pale skin of the Colonial Director, creating shadows that seemed almost...romantic.

Not that Sloane had bothered to look at Foster Addison that way. Normally, she was standing opposite her in Operations, trading passive-aggressive barbs at each other until either Kesh or Tann intervened, her dark red eyebrows knit together in a furious frustration that wasn't as nearly intimidating as Addison thought it was. In fact, it was amusing to the point of being cute. Those green eyes slinging frosty flames, bubblegum lips streaked with lines of irritation. Yeah...it was cute. Sloane skewed her face at herself and tried to shove that thought aside.

No...no. Now was not the time or the place to be having any of those sorts of thoughts. If she had them at all, and especially not about this asshole of a woman. Addison was never someone that Sloane would have thought of approaching back in the Milky Way. Priss was not her type.

Without asking for an invite, hoping that the impending irritation at her would be enough to, at least, momentarily wake Addison out of her mood, she sat down opposite her. To her surprise, it failed.

"I was just about to open this." Addison said, lifting her gaze to Sloane, and a small metal flask in her hands.

Sloane found herself more surprised than anything. "Is that what I think it is?"

Addison rolled her eyes and twisted the top open. "That would require you to have thoughts in your brain." There was that bite, but it wasn't said to be entirely mean. She stared at the flask for a moment, willing herself to drink it, and then did.

Sloane couldn't help a laugh as the Colonial Director's eyes watered and she coughed. "Goddamn...why did I think this was a good idea?" She asked rhetorically, handing the flask to Sloane.

A million smartass comments swirled around Sloane's head, but she decided against them and just lifted the flask with a, "cheers." She drank. Having spent most of her life in the trenches, she was used to various sorts of Brain Bleach as Shepard referred to it as. This was the worst of them all though. The liquid didn't just burn, it sucked the air out of her lungs, and curdled her stomach to the point where she retched involuntarily.

She sputtered and coughed, desperately trying recover the air that had quickly escaped her body, and not embarrass herself in front of Addison. "Holy shit." She said, her eyes watering, too. "Which shuttle did you pour that out of?" She couldn't help a laugh as she handed the flask back, which caught Addison's eye and she laughed too. For a good minute, they both laughed hard.

Sloane recalled a few weeks ago, standing outside a closet full of crewmembers who were all sitting around chasing shots of this battery acid and dousing each other with synthetic feathers. Addison had come over, her elegant features glowering adorably until she took Sloane up on her challenge to pinch her, which she did, and left a painful mark that stayed with her for weeks. In fact, Sloane's hand still hurt from thinking about it, but it was a good sort of hurt. After she had convinced Addison to let it go, Sloane also recalled falling into peals of laughter with her. It felt good to laugh, and it felt good to think about it. Since the two of them had gotten better acquainted, she found that the abrasive attitude that came with Director Addison occasionally faded to the point where she seemed almost human.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was genuine curiosity that caused her to wonder who Addison had been before the Alliance military had gotten its tentacles on her. She had said that opportunity brought her here: A chance to be the officer she had been in the Milky Way, but with less bureaucracy. Perhaps it was the investigator in Sloane, but looking at Addison now, as she avoided her gaze and concentrated on the floor beneath her feet, she couldn't help but suspect there was more to this story. Would she ever know?

Addison looked up and for a moment, caught her eye. The Nexus' emergency lighting, once again, ambushing any attempts of intimidation in the Director's face. _Doubtful._ Sloane thought to herself. Regardless of whatever smoke and mirrors the Nexus tried to fool her with, she knew Addison to be completely closed off. She had to be. For the same reasons Sloane had to be.

Perhaps in another life. A life without this nightmare that sent Addison into this office and Sloane along with her, looking for some shred of humanity that might be left in this hellhole. In a half-hearted attempt to keep the mood light, Sloane turned to Addison and said, "here I am an asshole for not bringing anything."

"You are." Addison quipped. She handed the flask back to Sloane. Her voice had softened, as had her facial expression. Gone was the usual cool exterior, filled with the tension of verbal arrows ready to be shot at Sloane at a moment's notice. Instead her face seemed curious and...appreciative? The latter wasn't the correct word, but Sloane didn't want to dwell on what more it could be. There wasn't room for that out here.

Sloane couldn't help a laugh as she concentrated harder than normal to accept the liquid back with what she hoped appeared to be a steady hand to Addison. It wasn't, but Addison's hand wasn't steady either and for a moment, their hands brushed against each other. Not that hadn't happened a hundred times before. She recalled clutching her hand to steady herself as much as the Colonial Affairs Director as they walked through the damaged Nexus, grabbing her by the shoulders to keep her from falling down a hole in the deck, and hugging her when all seemed lost. For all of the arguments they had, the many things they never could agree on, Addison had always been there. In a brief moment, Sloane caught Addison's deep green eyes and telegraphed everything that she didn't quite know how to say. Addison seemed to say in return, _message received and reciprocated._

"Well, next time I will be sure not to forget. Perhaps I'll even bring roses." Sloane said, venturing an idle flirt. What was she doing? Here? Now? _Addison? Why not?_ Her drunken mind reasoned. The fact of the matter was that she had thought about it. More times than the sober version of Sloane Kelly would ever admit. For as big of an asshole Foster Addison was, she loved every second trading barbs with her, and letting that rose-headed woman check her every time she flexed her muscles. She loved it all the more when Addison would take a page from her book and use it; which had been happening more and more.

Then there were the other things that she had been desperately trying to convince herself was not happening: The furtive glances when Tann's back was turned, the small smiles here and there, quick turns of her head when Addison thought Sloane hadn't noticed, and also she had been going out of her way to argue with her. _Don't be a fucking asshole, Sloane._ These were the musings of a drunk woman, she rationalized to herself.

Or, perhaps not. Addison's rosy cheeks flushed for a split second and then she laughed hard.

"What's so funny?" Sloane asked. She couldn't help a chuckle of her own.

It took a moment for Addison to regain her composure. "You." She said, pointing a drunken finger at her. "I had this silly image in my head of you standing in that door way--" She pointed to the one behind them "--with a bouquet of roses and a bottle of wine."

Sloane suddenly imagined admiring herself in reflection of a panel, in a freshly pressed uniform--no, a tuxedo with tails, bouquet of red roses in one hand, and a bottle of Serrice Ice in another, looking like a gigantic douchebag for none other than Foster Addison. What would Kandros say? Kesh? No, Tann! The image was so tender and so far out of character, she couldn't help but laugh with Addison. She also blushed slightly at the idea of having someone to impress for once.

"Sssorry." Addison slurred, looking genuinely apologetic. She stared down at the flask. Deciding better than to drink the rest, she offered it to Sloane. "Perhaps that should be a goal then: Roses, so you can bring them to me."

It was Sloane's turn to blush again. On a normal basis, Director Kelly wagered that she drank more heavily than her counterpart. However, the alcohol was thoroughly making it to her brain. She politely declined with a wave. "I've had enough, thanks...Fossy." The last word was meant less as a flirt and more to keep herself in check lest she find herself getting too attached to Addison...or Addison too attached to her.

This earned her a drunken glare. "I told you not to call me that." It was followed up with a drunken laugh. "It is better than some of the other nicknames for me I've heard: Bitch, Director Slagison, Director of Cunty Affairs..." Her voice trailed off. A serious expression fell across her face, and her eyes brimmed with a sadness that broke Sloane's heart. Addison lulled her head to the Security Director. "Not very fucking creative if you ask me."

"Sorry." Sloane offered. It was genuine.

Addison responded by swatting her hand at her counterpart, and then letting her hand rest on Sloane's. It was meant to assuage Sloane's guilt. She couldn't tell if the alcohol had completely taken over or not, but she felt enough courage to take Addison's hand and hold it. Reciprocating Addison's request for human contact seemed to change her demeanor. It also stirred something in Sloane. She stared down at the white gloved hand covering her dark skin decorated with callouses and scar tissue.

Lifting her gaze, she met Addison again. Another moment passed between the two of them; two polarizing personalities seeking the same thing: Some sort of connection to this reality to help combat the profound feelings of loss, confusion, fear, and anger that came with great responsibility. Sloane also found herself feeling a deep appreciation for the strengths that she found in herself when confronted with Addison's impenetrable stubbornness.

A sad smile crossed Addison's supple lips. Her eyes were sunken, but relaxed behind the sea of alcohol that she had consumed. She took Sloane's hand, wrapped it around her, leaning back against her chest.

"I feel so useless, Sloane." The words slurred slowly from Addison's exhausted lips, stained with sadness. "I don't know what I am doing."

Sloane's heart skipped in surprise as she accepted Addison. Even though they hadn't showered in a few days, Addison smelled like a sunrise and felt like a dream. Resisting the urge to kiss the top of her head, Kelly laid back against the other arm of the sofa, sliding her legs underneath. Addison rolled onto her stomach and clutched her as if she were clutching the inside of an Omni-Shield. Confused and wanting to soothe Addison's souring mood, Sloane wrapped her other arm around her holding her protectively.

"You're not useless. Our mission hasn't changed, just our circumstances have." Sloane said, hearing Jien Garson in her words as they tumbled from her mouth. It was another honest response. She tried not to think about what was happening, but the alcohol told her to stop burying herself for the sake of the mission. _Otherwise, what were they fighting for?_ She rubbed the small of her back soothingly.

"I miss Jien." Addison said with a sniffle. Her face was turned away from Sloane. Buried in her chest, but she knew that the alcohol had uncorked Addison's emotions the same way it loosened her own. Sloane looked to the darkened gray ceiling of the office. It reminded her of the moment she'd had with Jien right before the launch.

_What do you hope to find there, Director?_ Jien's last question sang in her ears as though it were yesterday; the twinkle in Jien's eye chilling her to the bone with pride, exhilaration, hope. Her reply had been humorous. At the time she hadn't had a response; something that at this moment she regretted. Her reply would have been life. A few short moments later, Jien had laid to rest in her cryopod leaving Sloane by herself, staring out at the honeycomb of thousands of explorers, sold on the promise of tomorrow.

A tomorrow that included everyone. A tomorrow where life wasn't huddled in some darkened office, clutching to hope and Jien's top adviser while they watched her dream die along with her. For the first time since they had arrived, Sloane felt the defeat, the fear, the heartbreak. She held Addison tighter as tears formed in her eyes. She looked to the back of the sofa, hoping Addison wasn't watching her.

"Me too." Sloane said softly to the cushions. That was the last thing she remembered saying to Addison before they both passed out.


	4. Melodies

Morning seemed to come in a short moment. Shaking an unusual fogginess to her head, Sloane picked herself up off the mattress, realizing that she had slept in her clothes again, and wondering if she had been sideways and on her stomach all night. It wasn't what she remembered. Forgetting where she was for a moment, she brushed the soft, white sheets, occupied only by bright sunlight as it streamed through the slats in the window directly in front of her face. She smiled, letting herself appreciate the light from the Govorkam star dancing across her calloused skin. Momentarily feeling like an adventurer, she marveled that it wasn't the sun, but in fact the light from an alien star shining through the atmosphere of an alien world in Andromeda that she found herself living on. _Yeah...that's what it was. Living._ She thought to herself bitterly, chasing away the last vestiges of what could be construed as innocence.

Lifting her gaze, she was greeted by the datapad shards glittering in the same warm sun on her desk. Not that anyone else had access to her bed chambers to take it from her, or that anyone would try...that she knew of. Even though large portion of the Outcasts still didn't trust her, any of her Lieutenants that had been in her Headquarters when Ryder had presented it to her wouldn't have cared once Zaw had broken it in half. As he should have.

Zaw was a young member of the Nakmor clan. He wasn't very high up in Morda's hierarchy, but he was still a relative. Smart, dependable, and as bloodthirsty as any Krogan she'd ever met. On a few occasions, outside the walls of Kadara Port, Sloane had shared the battlefield with him, and he seemed to know her intentions before anyone else did, including Kaetus and Irida. Smart kid. He would move up fast. Maybe a counterpart to Kaetus. It would be nice to have more than one man to depend on when it came to overseeing the security of this entire piece of shit outfit.

 _That isn't a nice thing to say._ Sloane scolded herself, half hearing Addison in her head. Fucking bitch. They had followed her this far, done everything that she had asked of them, no matter how high the price. It wasn't their fault they were stuck out here. No, that fell squarely on her and the rest of the Nexus leadership. Those people out there weren't soldiers or mercenaries by trade, they were maintenance workers, life support technicians, medical staff, civilians. Everything but people that were meant for war. All of them had come out here looking to start a life, not continue fighting. Isn't that what they were trying to do here?

 _Shut up, Sloane._ She thought to herself. Now was not the time to feel sorry for herself. There was too much at stake to waste time on fretting over something she couldn't undo. Sloane sat up and slid off her bed.

Originally, her bedroom was a pair of utility closets, but she knocked out a wall here and there, and moved one in to give her a studio-feel with at least her own bathroom accommodations. Contrary to what Ryder would think, it wasn't some grotesque display of opulence.

Like the rest of the compound it was gray and clinical in its appearance with the exception of the occasional speckles of rust despite her best efforts. With the lakes outside Kadara Port being filled with acid, the moisture in the air liked to wreak havoc on everything. Not that the angara were particularly mindful of the appearance of Kadara Port...at least not verbally. More assholes to go along with the collection of assholes that she had gotten herself away from.

It was longer than it was wide with a pair of windows that were side by side on the right side from the door. Underneath the window was the nicest piece of furniture she owned: Her bed. As a show of good faith for getting rid of the Kett, the Angarans had bestowed this on her as a gift. After months of sleeping on various surfaces around the Nexus, in the chairs of cramped shuttlecraft, rocks on alien worlds, she had happily accepted it. Being the soldier that she was, it faced the door, and the window next to her bed afforded a picturesque view of the jagged cliffs off in the countryside, but no one the opportunity to look in.

The window stopped at a small wardrobe. On one of the shelves in the wardrobe was her Carnifex, primed and ready should anyone on the other side of that door get daring, or the Collective somehow get a burst of support from say the angara or even the Initiative--now that they were here. Hanging inside the wardrobe was a small population of pants, shirts, undergarments, boots; just enough for a couple days, and two sets of armor: Her favorite set, which was a hodge podge of Angaran and recovered pieces of Kett technology, and way in the back was her Initiative set...collecting dust as it should.

Behind the wardrobe was a solid wall with a piece of glass she had turned into a full length mirror, a small chair that she thought might be useful for reading and contemplating, but really took up more fucking space than was useful. To the left of that was a smaller window which was guarded by a spotting scope and a sniper rifle.

Opposite the bed was her desk, which was nothing more than a long work bench, on which were a couple of neat piles of datapads, a computer, and a Sidewinder she was busily tweaking for herself. Above the desk was a series of shelves with more datapads, her rifle, and memories of dead comrades displayed as a melody to the mission that she and the rest of these forgotten souls found themselves on. _Not forgotten._ She hadn't forgotten them. That's why she was here. She thought to herself, chasing the memories from her mind, mustering the strength to rise from the bed and begin undressing.

Here they were, slogging along to make everyone fat and happy. That was the idea wasn't it? Sloane glanced at the reflection of her worn naked body, covered in tattoos and scars staring back at her in the shards of the broken datapad. Somewhere inside its jagged interface was a melody that had once been beautiful. Instead of shoving her thoughts aside, she allowed herself to entertain it, remembering the skip in her step, the song of her words, and the way she felt in her arms.

"Yeah, we sure are fucking accomplishing that aren't we, Fossy?" She said, a rueful tone in her voice. A swirl of emotions threatened to undo her. She clapped them shut (Addison would have been proud), and entered her bathroom.


	5. Perfection

Spirits had been looking up on the Nexus as of late...at least for the hapless residents that were not a part of leadership. Ice blocks were beginning to come in from Voeld, infusing the parched supply enough to afford something that Foster Addison hadn't before considered a luxury: Enough water for something approaching a normal shower, and clean clothes. It was an improvement. However, thanks to the bleeding heart of Pathfinder Alex Ryder, the Nexus and its fledgling outposts were now having to support more people than she had anticipated. Gone was the promise of hot water to go along with this morning among other creature comforts that she had been looking forward to; things that would give her a sense of normalcy. Addison stopped herself. _Really? Normalcy, Foster?_ She thought to herself with a sardonic chuckle. Normalcy didn't exist for her. This was just another fucking day. _Right Foster?_ She told her naked reflection in the mirror. She remained mute and glowered back at her.

The best she could do, was make herself look somewhat human. Tearing herself away from the miserable sod staring at her, she began putting on her uniform. Fresh, pressed, and smelling of...well, better than grotesque. Laundry soap was a luxury that Kesh had argued was something to only be afforded when the water supply wasn't so dangerously low as to further the risk of pollutants into the fresh water supply used for drinking, cooking, and scientific endeavors. A fair point, but yet another disappointment to this week.

To complete herself, would be her face. Smoothing those lines forming around her eyes, mouth, and the bags under her eyes from yet another sleepless night thanks to the infernal sunlamps in her apartment. A positive contribution from Pathfinder Ryder was her rudimentary trade network with the angara. Through this, she had received a much-needed infusion to her makeup supplies. While there was some variation in colors, with the help of Cassidy Shaw, she had cobbled together a palette that she was pleased with.

A little neutral foundation to start, a pinkish blush, then eyeliner. It was methodical, ritualistic. Like asari with their meditation, Turians with their martial arts, and humans with their morning cups of coffee and the latest newsfeed from HNS. Something to help her cope with the shit that today would bring, and it was a heaping pile of it. Addison was trying not to get too excited about finally having a purpose and not just being a fleshy waste of air. _Our mission hasn't changed, just our circumstances have._ Sloane had said to her that night in the office. It was meant as comforting as Sloane could manage. Adaptation was not one of Addison's strong suits, and it was one of her most hated failings. At this point, she had resigned herself to the idea that she was meant to be an organizer. She had also allowed herself to be manipulated with the bullshit promise that a new beginning was possible. Yet, here she was with new colonies to manage, each with prospects more exciting than the next. However, they also came with problems: The frigid temperatures of Voeld, the violent sandstorms on Eos, constant rain on Havarl...and the angara. Then there was Kadara. The latter made Addison recoil slightly.

While Alex hadn't established a foothold on it, she knew Sloane Kelly better than that. Sloane was as stubborn as she was foolish. Leading dozens of people to who knew where for what? Ego? Because she didn't want to capitulate to the solution that Tann wanted her to take? It was a stupid one, she admitted to herself, but it was better than roaming through the cosmos, easy prey for the Scourge, the Kett, and whatever else was out there. She wondered what had happened between the Nexus and Kadara, what sort of struggles Sloane had with the angara; they seemed like a peaceful lot, but the Nexus had the benefit of the Pathfinder and her self-righteous pragmatism, whereas the Exiles had Sloane and her brutishness. Sloane Kelly was a better leader than she gave herself credit for, Addison also admitted, but she wasn't as good as she thought she was. She could only imagine what sort of impression the Exiles made on such an emotional people like the angara.

The last time she had seen Sloane was boarding a shuttle with the rest of the Exiles. Sloane looked small, frightened along with the rest of them. Or...perhaps that's what she told herself. A thought that would continue to take the piss out of her...assuage the guilt Addison had felt after she had handed the Exiles their sentence. Addison's heart hurt seeing Sloane leave, her head filled with worry. As strong as she was, she wasn't immortal. Sloane had been quiet except to the people that were now her crew. There had been no further attempt to negotiate, no final goodbyes. Would there really have been? Addison asked herself. Maybe. Maybe to those she cared about. That hurt more.

It had been uncharacteristic of Sloane, Addison ruminated. Often, Sloane held onto things too long to the point it would start to destroy her and everyone else around her, but not that day. She had been cold; dropped Addison without a backward glance. Addison wondered if Sloane had taken that page out of her own book. It wasn't as though Sloane hadn't rubbed off on her. She had to have known the consequences.

 _You always put too much on._ The memory of Sloane's voice was loud in her ears, as though she were in the room. Addison blinked and met the hard set features of Director Kelly staring back at her from the mirror. She wore a white and blue Initiative uniform with a Carnifex strapped to her hip like some sort of douchebag gunslinger. What was she going to do? Lean out a window and start shooting the Scourge? It was just like that meatheaded halfwit to carry around a weapon as a security blanket. Not a halfwit. Sloane was a lot smarter than Addison gave her credit for. It was her methods which were wrong: Always reacting instead of thinking first, emotion over logic. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and thought more like a grunt than a Security Director. Never at her post, always mucking around in the lower decks, doing tasks that she should be delegating to other people. The Nexus crew loved her for it, but it also made her unreliable. Part of Addison admired Sloane's style of leadership, part of her was worried that all that time without anyone to rein her in had made her even more of a powder keg than she had been on the Nexus.

She was still a meathead. Though, there were times when Sloane was somewhat of a civilized person. Somewhat...when she thought no one was paying attention to her. Addison remembered the day she met Sloane, stumbling around in the chaos. Even though she had been injured, Sloane had tended to Addison's wounds first. Her badly burned hands had been selfless, tender as they smoothed Medi-Gel over her forehead, though her bedside manner was about what she expected: Short and not sugar-coated. _No beds_ Sloane had replied when Addison quizzed her about her lack of bedside manner. Her heterochromatic eyes (one a warm chestnut brown, and one the most brilliant blue Addison ever recalled seeing) told a different story, as did her body when she helped Addison from the room they were in.

Those same eyes sparkled at her through the mirror in a combination of insufferable amused provocation. Even though she hated it, she couldn't ignore the pleasant tickle of challenge. She enjoyed difficult people. Sloane put her to the test, but in a way that no one else had. It had been more than just being forced to work with her. As the Security Director, Addison ventured that she would have had to work with her even if the Nexus had not hit the Scourge. Jien Garson had a talent for seeing the potential in others and purposely selected senior officers that way. Perhaps she had known all along that Addison would actually like Sloane. That thought made Addison raise a well-groomed eyebrow at herself.

 _I don't remember asking you._ Addison had retorted. To which Sloane had replied, _I'm the one that has to stare at your face all day. It's not completely clown like, but you don't need excessive amounts._ The backward compliment still twisted Addison into frothy irritation. At the time, it was only made worse when Kesh entered, interrupting what could have been a satisfying slap to the face. Addison would get her revenge later.

The Colonial Director finished the final touches on her eyeliner. Right on cue, the first of the morning messages were coming in to her Omni-Tool, the chimes waking her from her thoughts. How long had she been in here? It was probably Tann or Spender looking for her. For once, she was grateful for that irritating noise. She put the finishing touches on her makeup and "admired" herself in the mirror. Normally, she at least tolerated the face that looked back at her, but today, there was something off...something loathsome. She looked freakish.

"Bozo." She said to herself, hearing Sloane in her words. Deciding she didn't have the time or strength to consider re-doing her makeup, the Director of Colonial Affairs pulled herself away from the mirror. _Good enough for government._ She thought sardonically. Sliding on her Omni-Tool, she stepped through the door of her apartment to the Habitat area and was greeted by more eternal sunshine. It was time to get this shit show on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/31 - Made content edits and added more angst


	6. One Little Asari

Director Addison's apartment was located in Habitat Area 1 near the docking port. She was on the level above most of the regular Nexus crew, which had afforded her some needed privacy. At least when Tann or Kesh weren't bugging the shit out of her and her downstairs neighbor wasn't home. Unfortunately, one of the consequences of the rushed construction of the Nexus meant that soundproofing had been sacrificed for the sake of deadlines. Thankfully, since Pelessaria B'Sayle had joined the Tempest crew, her apartment sat vacant most of the time: No more loud music, arguments, or weird noises that Addison didn't want to wonder about.

The elevator halted and she exited onto the mezzanine above the docking port where some of the other apartments were. Emerging from her own, and the one next door to Pelessaria, was another asari that Addison was beginning to know more and more as Keri T'Vessa. Originally a member of the communications repair team, Keri's talents as a journalist back in the Milky Way had been recognized by Director Tann, who had re-purposed her to be the orator of his "happy-gas" as Sloane would put it. 

To Tann's misfortune, he happened to hire the one reporter in either galaxy that appeared to be actually honest. Inspired, Keri had started a documentary series to record the history of Heleus and its settlement which included an interview series of Pathfinder Ryder, with whom she had exceptional chemistry. Keri hadn't been awake for the uprising, but she was well aware of it and appeared to have her own opinion of that event and the remaining members Nexus leadership. In her quest for the truth, she chose to air whatever she her camera witnessed as is. Her narrative was factual with little fluff or opinion pieces apart from the individual interviews, which were a fair balance of critical and non-critical. However, despite repeated warnings from Tann, footage she chose to air focused more on the drama of struggle instead of comfort and promise. Her program, especially the interview series, was becoming immensely popular. Addison had to laud Keri for keeping Tann on his toes but, at the same time, found her dedication a little frightening since she couldn't be positive what other content would be in an episode, or if anyone on the Nexus might be trying to use Ms. T'Vessa as a weapon. Even worse: She was kind, sweet, wasn't pushy, but was assertive with a very healthy dose of ambition, and that camera was always on.

"Good morning, Director!" Keri greeted merrily. Her camera was already fixed on her chest and aimed straight at her.

"Good morning, Ms. T'Vessa." Addison replied with a polite smile. She tried to match the cheeriness of the asari, but suspected that her smile was more of a grimace. _First thing in the morning?_ Addison steeled herself for what would come next. To her surprise, Keri didn't react to her except to wave. She headed off toward the ramp leading to the main docking area, leaving Addison momentarily a little disappointed. Reassuring herself that the lack of attention was what she really wanted, Addison resumed her walk to Operations.

Upon reaching the railing overlooking the docking area, her eyes met the familiar sleek lines of the Tempest. This was why Keri was not interested. She was already standing with her producer near the hatch waiting to accost Ryder. Which meant...Ryder was probably on her way to accost the leadership. Addison grumbled in the back of her mind at the mounting list of things that she would either need to delegate or let go until tomorrow. Pulling up her Omni-Tool, she checked her messages. There were messages from Tann, Spender, Shaw, but there wasn't one from Alex. That didn't mean that she didn't have a surprise or two. Part of her wondered if she had any word from Sloane. She shoved that thought aside. It had been foolish to think that Sloane would have forgiven her by now enough to read, let alone respond to any message from her. Even if it was something that could save her life. That last thought gave her pause.

Keri bounced impatiently as she waited, reminding Addison of the occasional times where she caught herself staring at the Operations door, the boredom of what she initially welcomed as the solitude of work without Sloane Kelly's bluster and colorful language bouncing off the walls, grating on every inch of her sanity. It wasn't really solitude anyway with Tann and his incessant need to talk to himself as he poured over calculations and muttered through ideas. At one point Tann had asked her if she was waiting for someone. The question more suspicious than inquisitive. She'd shot him a well-earned glare, having realized what she was doing, and told him she needed a walk. A half truth.

Ryder came through the door and instantly noticed Keri. Not that she was hard to miss since she practically threw herself at the Pathfinder. Alex didn't seem to mind, and instead toed the ground bashfully. The reporter straightened her posture and did her best to compose herself, but Alex had already caught on and had turned up the charm. Instead of a professional military bearing, her posture was as dashing as she could muster, and her face had a demure smile written all over it as she gave her answers to Keri's questions. Keri did well at not being too distracted, but made it obvious to Alex that she wanted to flirt back. It certainly explained why Keri's interviews always went so well. It was heartwarming seeing a newcomer like Alex find someone that looked at her that way. For a moment, Addison felt hopeful. Remembering that her first task this morning was to sit in on her interrogation, her reverie was brief.

Ignoring the nausea that accompanied that thought and not wanting to share what would be an awkward tram ride with them, she scurried down the ramp and to Operations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/9 - Made content edits
> 
> 8/15 - Made content edits. Added a little more monologue since I felt this was short and was missing a true point.
> 
> 8/20 - Made more content edits. Needed to tie this room together.
> 
> 9/12 - Made content edits to tie this room together even more.


	7. Above A Whisper

Lights flickered by as the tram to Operations sped its way along the internals of the Nexus. Such as sterile view in comparison to The Citadel back home, where the air cars afforded breathtaking views of the vast parks, fountains, and vast cityscape below. _No, not back home._ Keri T'Vessa reminded herself. _Andromeda is your home now._ For the first time since she had been awakened from stasis, the thought made her feel small and alone. Even though she was hardly alone in this cramped little car. In a fit of adorable awkwardness, Alex had asked to accompany Keri to Tann's office and stood beside her. It had been an excuse to spend more time with her, that Keri had happily accepted, but she also knew that Alex was worried. Ever since she had left Kadara, the tone in her letters had been more serious than normal. Even now, she was oddly silent. While Keri had been called into Tann's office for multiple meetings, and wasn't afraid of this one, the protective posture that Alex had standing next to her, and the half-clenched jaw gave her pause. Having noticed Addison coming down from her apartment, Alex had also requested that they walk slower. Something curious.

It wasn't intimidation. Alex had been more annoyed by the Colonial Director than anything else, and never shied away from talking to her. Today was different. Keri half-wondered if it might have something to do with her meeting. Since the uncut footage from today included images Alex had sent from Kadara along with her response to Tann's question about the Exiles, no doubt Addison would be present. She had been present before, only quietly agreed with Tann's request for levity in her stories, but had never been openly critical or disapproved of Keri. Of course, Addison did go out of her way to avoid her attention... _but that's almost everybody on the Nexus_. Keri thought to herself with a measure of frustrated depression. Did everyone have something to hide? Probably not. Today might be an exception, too, with everyone abuzz about Sloane and the Exiles.

Keri only knew Sloane from reputation, and the opinion of her on the station seemed to be widely varied. Of the Nexus leaders, it was suggested that while there was no love lost between Sloane, Tann, and Addison and they spent more time arguing than finding productive solutions. Talini had hinted that Sloane had gotten on best with Kandros and Kesh; and, despite popular opinion, that she might have been closer to Director Addison than it seemed on the surface. Something that Keri filed away in the back of her mind to ask when she had a moment to talk with either Talini or Addison...or maybe Sloane? The ludicrousness of the last idea made Keri chuckle internally, though she savored the momentary fancy of interviewing Sloane Kelly. Among the crew, some spoke of former Director Kelly as a hated enemy, choosing to blame the Uprising on her among other plights. Some almost seemed to suggest that she caused the Scourge to happen. Others spoke of her with reverence, blaming the situation on Tann, Addison, a man named Calix, and even Kandros, even though he hadn't been present for the Uprising at all. Of course, those that did speak favorably about her chose to hide their identities, or requested that Keri consider their comments off the record. Something that she did so out of respect to her subject and without a measure of frustration until today.

Alex remained quiet, but her eyes looked like she wanted to talk.

"When do you leave?" Keri asked, trying to fill the void.

Alex shrugged. "In a few hours. Back to Kadara, unless something else comes up. After that, I don't know." For a moment, she got that adventurous look in her eye, and then said after a pause, "....We won't be long." The last sentence was said to assure Keri. It did, but at the same time Keri felt guilty wanting Alex to stay longer. Just one more day. Maybe a coffee, a tea...or maybe just an afternoon in her arms.

Aware that her eyes were probably telegraphing her feelings, Keri looked away with a blush. Alex moved closer.

Hakim had been with her originally for the journey from the Docking Port to the tram, but had opted to take the next tram. Being her closest friend on the Nexus and her producer, he was well aware that Keri had more than a passing interest in the Pathfinder and Alex wouldn't be long on the station. Then it was off to wherever the wind took her. She guessed back to Kadara, though, she had heard rumors of trouble brewing on Eos; or perhaps it would be to somewhere more far off. The thought worried her more than it excited her. Sure, there would be more incredible images coming from the Tempest just for her, stories, new people potentially, history being made, but at the same time, more potential to lose someone she found herself falling more in love with.

Prior to a month ago, Keri had only known Alex through her reputation, and even then it was whatever reputation the Initiative had stored on her in their database. During her time in the Alliance military, Alex had been well-decorated, characterized as professional, but there had been some doubts as to her qualifications for leadership, which had kept her stagnated in the junior officer ranks. The Nexus leadership had their doubts, too, which had been made apparent during her interview sessions with them. Most notably Addison and Kandros, which was understandable considering Alex hadn't been trained for the role of Pathfinder, and even for human standards was extremely young. Even Keri admitted to having her doubts at first. Something she felt guilty over and made a point to not tell Alex about. _Well,_ she mused after taking a moment to admire her, _at least not until you get to know her better._ Something that was more and more of a possibility. The thought caused Keri to smile. Of course, Alex caught it and smiled back, her cheeks turning slightly red and those obsidian colored eyes twinkling again just for her. Keri couldn't help a blush of her own.

Paper didn't do Alex Ryder justice. She was everything that no one thought she could be and more: The definition of adventurer, determined, quiet for the most part, courteous, and liked to think of herself as the consummate military professional. Her eyes and body language effused experience through slow, methodical patience, which led to calculated decisions in the field. As any good explorer would, she peaked behind every shadow, wandered through every cave, left no stone unturned, and despite whatever ego she had, made a point to familiarize herself with local culture on their terms. To go along with adventurer, Alex liked to throw caution to the wind, along with her body, leaping off of every precipice she could find in Heleus and sending her pictures of it along with her many adventures, much to her chagrin. This had left her fellow shipmates confused as to the woman they found themselves being commanded by. Keri had noted an uptick in the number of daredevil pictures she was receiving and wondered if this was a result of Alex feeling more comfortable with her crew and role as Pathfinder, or the sign of something more serious. It was certainly something to ask about later. Keri also knew a silly, sarcastic sense of humor that she quietly suspected was reserved for people she liked...like her.

"Beautiful" was not the correct word to describe Alex's physical appearance. "Hot" was the word Keri would use for that silken charcoal color hair, those radiant matching eyes, artful brows, gently sloping nose, firm breasts that pushed her Initiative tunic out just far enough to be distracting, and shapely lips that went along with shapely hips which flexed in a mesmerizing fashion when she transferred her weight to her other leg, leaning in Keri's direction. Those eyes looked to her again. Not shying away this time, Keri studied her, still unsure of anything meaningful to say. "Handsome" is the word Alex would choose, and it was exactly the word that tumbled out of her mouth.

Alex's bright red face mirrored her own bright blue one.

"Goddess..." Keri murmured in embarrassment, and then swore in asari. Thoroughly flustered, Keri tried to hide herself farther into the back of the car as though that might, somehow, make her undetectable to a Pathfinder. Especially, the one that smiled at her the way she was. Alex didn't approach, and looked as though she was afraid any sudden movement would frighten her away. Alex had been respectful of Keri's request for space, but did not shy away from letting her know she wanted more. Neither did Keri...and at this very moment, she wanted a whole lot more.

Shoving aside her better judgment, Keri held her hand out to Alex, which the Pathfinder took and pulled her closer. Keri caught the faint scent of a pleasant cologne she didn't recognize, and let herself be enveloped. That wasn't the most intoxicating thing about Alex Ryder: It was the warmth and gentle pressure of her hand. Something that she had only imagined, along with Alex's expression: Adoration. Keri realized that she had also stolen Alex's breath.

Alex lifted her voice to slightly above a whisper, but would be inaudible to anyone but her and in a strange melody that Keri never had heard from her and longed to hear again, replied with a word in as perfect High Thessian that a human could muster. It was a word that had no translation in human languages, and was the strangest and most beautiful compliment that she had ever heard. It was as though her heart had been cracked open and its contents were slowly leaking out. She wanted to kiss her. She didn't move, Alex didn't move. 

"Professional, Keri." Alex said serenely, throwing her words from earlier back at her. For a second, Keri fumed but in good humor. "Think of this as the reward for all your hard work." Her words were diplomatic even though her eyes betrayed her words. Despite what either one of them wanted, they were the truth. All her hard work. The work that Tann was about to destroy.

As the tram continued its journey, Davis' voice cut through the cloud of emotion, speaking about last week's episode involving Alex's journey back to Eos. She had encountered more Kett. She had seemed cheery when she wrote her about it, cracking jokes like she always did. Keri hadn't pried too much during her talks with Ryder, or her letters. Though, she had noted when she got too close, Alex seemed to steer the conversation to something else. Now that she recalled it, she felt slightly annoyed, but reminded herself of who Alex was. Maybe that's how soldiers were. It's not as though that Alex purposely hid things from her.

Of all the qualities in Alex that Keri found herself falling in love with, it was her honesty. As an interview subject, it made her responses to questions delightfully unpredictable. Privately, Keri worried that increased exposure to the politics that came with people like Tann, Addison...and now Sloane would kill this in her; if they didn't kill the rest of her first. Whether Alex realized it or not, those three were exactly what the Initiative hoped to break away from. Like mindless zealots, they were determined to be the proprietors of the Church of Jien Garson. Which was exactly the thing that Jien hadn't wanted. Of course, Jien wasn't here to speak any more words of wisdom; set everyone straight; inspire with her fearlessness. Maybe even mend ties between Sloane and her Exiles.

That was one thing that Keri remembered most about Jien Garson: No matter how difficult it would seem, she was never afraid to talk about it. _Talking is healing._ She had said once to Keri after her last interview. _It's also community. I have no doubt we will do better, and it will be in no small part thanks to you, Keri._ She then smiled and patted her on the shoulder before wandering over to other members of the now deceased Nexus leadership. Those words had done everything to heal a lifetime of anger and betrayal. She cherished them, but at the same time they broke her heart. Whispers of a dead woman and an idea that died with her. The thought stung enough for her to fight back tears. She leaned her forehead against Alex's.

Alex lifted her hands and cupped Keri's face. "Hey." 

Keri closed her eyes and felt more tears come. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around the Pathfinder and buried her face in her shoulder. Alex embraced her in return, holding her closely to her as though she had always been in her life. "All my hard work..." She sighed in frustration into her uniform, her voice threaded as she fought to compose herself. Slowly, she pulled away and wiped her face.

Alex was uncomfortably quiet and it was as though she could feel her embarrassment at her earlier statement. Keri felt guilty for being mad, and realized she was taking it out on Alex. Facing her, she continued. "People are getting hurt, killed every day: Kesh's workers are being hospitalized because they are being worked to the brink of exhaustion, our own people have been abandoned and are now stranded on alien worlds by themselves, and then you.... Care to show me your favorite N7 armor after your last expedition?" She gave Alex a daring expression.

Her companion remained quiet.

"There they are," Keri continued, flailing a blue hand at the scene-less windows. "A fatted cow and an overstuffed frog sitting in their little ivory tower, trying to turn our blood into gold. For what?" Keri asked rhetorically.

"That's a good question." Alex replied. Her perfect eyebrows raised, her expression one of encouragement.

Not expecting the response, Keri stopped her rant, digesting what Alex had just suggested. "I..." she began and halted, trying to find a way to formulate her next thought into something that would make sense to both herself and the Pathfinder. Her mind was working now. Let Tann and Addison have her footage, and even Alex's interview. Once again, that beautiful, bewildering human who stood a short distance from her, found a way to turn despair into hope.

"I don't know what I would do without you."

There came another irresistible smile. Once again, Alex closed the distance and took her hands. "You would be just as brave."

To this Keri could only blush at the unsolicited devotion. The tram slowed, suspending any hope of kissing her. Soon they would part ways. Keri to Tann's office, so she could watch him put his bulbous little fingers all over her story while she listened to him use her to exact his agenda while making snide little comments about her, her work, and Alex. Meanwhile, life would go on regardless of what narrative he chose to tell. Those voices below the decks of the Nexus, in the fields on Prodromos, lost in the feral entanglements of the Scourge, and the decks of the Tempest would still sing their silent hymns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/20 - Made content edits to cool Alex and Keri off a bit. There will be time for them.


	8. Blood

Running this shithole was a vexingly complicated task. First thing in the morning, Kaetus was there to greet her as if he hadn't slept at all with the latest figures. It was too early, and she hadn't had the fresh taste of coffee yet to fully understand what he was saying to her apart from murmuring and grunting. Now higher into the putrid sky, the Govorkam star angled its infernal light downward through the shades behind her chair, and right into her eyes. Shielding them, she passed by that fucking chair, grateful that for at least part of the day her ass would be free of it. Heading to the door, she reminded herself again to have Prnewski come in and fix either the blinds or the window tinting. She accepted the datapad from Kaetus with the latest financials. Sloane stopped for a moment, gazing at the interface, the keypad cool in her hands. It was intact. If it wasn't for the readout on its screen, she probably would be able to see her reflection. Instead it was a different sort of reflection:

Profits and loss. More heavy on the loss part than it was on the profit. Something that Evfra and the rest of the angara would likely have words with her on: It would be her fault. She was getting to distracted by personal drama, not managing her people, and fighting a war on multiple fronts: The Roekarr, The Collective...and now the Kett. Fuck if they ever found out about that. Then there was the other matter. The one that still tugged at her mind, even after a longer-than-normal shower. Sloane's intelligence had it that Alex Ryder was back on the Nexus, but was rumored back any day now. No doubt, the Pathfinder would be coming here to this office to have more words with Sloane. Unlikely platitudes, but probably more poison from the fuckwads running the Initiative. Perhaps another message from Addison. The thought soured her mood. She needed some fucking coffee.

Looking around, she spied Kaetus coming to her rescue. She took the mug of hot liquid that she assumed was coffee from the Turian's hand and drank. It wasn't. Sloane swore and not enough of what had been in her mouth wound up on the floor.

"Sorry. Crops have been slow." He said.

"Yeah yeah don't remind me." Sloane said with an air of resignation. She set the cup down on a nearby table and headed toward the door, grateful for another day not spent sitting in that infernal chair.

Despite popular opinion, she hated it and half-wondered how it would look reacting to an omni-grenade. It also wasn't hers. It had belonged to Governor Yolan Venas (at least that's what the remaining angara had told her) until he had been assassinated by the Kett. As a monument to his legacy and a show of her beginning one, it had been Kaetus' idea to keep the bloody thing. She preferred faces to walls, heartbeats to datapads, and the comfort of those she commanded instead of "trusted" advisers and other bottom feeders that swirled around the offices of the privileged; always looking for scraps...and weakness. Kaetus had sided with Addison's opinion that Sloane was more effective a leader if she relegated herself to an office and "delegate" tasks. She hated the word "delegate" almost as much as she did "meeting." That was something else office-dweller staff-officer types did: Meetings. Of all the things she didn't want to do was sit on her chair and listen to her assholes drone on about their opinions. Leave that for people who actually enjoyed being that type of person, like Kaetus...or Addison. To her misfortune, it was neither. Which meant, her responsibility to Kadara Port and its residents surpassed any personal desire to "run free." Begrudgingly, she admitted that disappearing into the bowels of Kadara Port, much like she had the Nexus, left her vulnerable both from the inside and the outside.

"Should you be going out there today?" Came Kateus' voice again.

Sloane stopped and turned around. "Of course. They'll expect to see me, today...and I want to be there. Why, what have you heard?" She took a step back from the door and eyed Kaetus suspiciously.

"We've been over this, Sloane. You've seen the data, so I don't need to spell out to you that The Collective have been getting a lot more daring in their attacks. We don't know how far their influence extends, and it would be foolish to discount the idea that they have operatives here on Kadara Port. An event like today where there's a lot of distraction, and then you out in the open for all to see--" The Turian gestured with his hands to emphasize Sloane behind her podium to give the speech for today's reverie, "--it's the perfect opportunity."

Nothing she didn't know already. She let him know with a nod and an irritated expression, which he countered with a stern look and arms across his chest. The fact that he was never intimidated endeared him to her. Back in the Milky Way, it was something that had also carried her many a time on the battle field, and even given her pause. However, since coming to Andromeda, she found his attention and his over-protectiveness suffocating.

"I'm not going to fucking hide in here." Sloane said angrily, shooting him a hard glare. He seemed to back off. "Who do you think I am? Foster Addison?" She said, proud of herself at the dig at the woman that wasn't there. She was present in the next room on her desk, and been at the forefront of her mind since last night. Perhaps that would shut them both up. It didn't. She found herself enjoying the taste of Addison's name on her tongue. Doing her best to ignore the horror of this idea for the sake of of covering herself in front of Kaetus, she provided another explanation. "The moment I retreat into the shadows is the moment we lose." Sloane gave Kaetus a forceful glare. It was true, and part of her original point, but seemed hollow now that her mouth wrestled with the texture of Addison's memory. Lest her thoughts leak out from somewhere unbeknownst to her, she added: "Besides, if they do take a shot at me, that will expose them, and we can use that to our advantage." She smiled reassuringly at him and watched him finally capitulate.

"Fine, but I am accompanying you. So is Zaw."

To that she could agree with him on, and let him know with a nod of approval. What a wuss. Sloane hadn't noticed it before, or maybe she had and just never really thought about it. Addison would have put up a fight: She would have given her an icy glare with those green eyes, strawberry brow furrowing disapprovingly while she raised her voice to yell Sloane's her name in a way that she felt like she was being stabbed with it. If she antagonized Addison more, she might have elicited an arm-grab or maybe even a smack. It would have been worth it, and she would have listened; felt human. Addison would have been right, and so was Kaetus admittedly, but she wasn't going to be bullied into sitting inside when the biggest even of the season (at least for now) was happening. She wasn't afraid.

It wasn't as though The Charlatan had made any concerted effort as of late, or that he had any known associates within her closest ranks...at least none that she knew of. She kept that thought in the back of her mind, remembering Calix and his effective deception. Was it really a deception, though? She had suspected him, just hadn't bothered to ask... _or bothered to care_. She thought. That thought was too complicated for her to get into so early in the morning. Then there was Addison. Of course, that wasn't much of a surprise either. Addison would have chosen the mission over her or anyone else. Despite Sloane's misgivings about her strength as a leader, she was good at seeing the bigger picture; not reacting impulsively to everything. Something that Sloane envied, but also hated about her.

Doing her best to emulate Foster Addison, she shoved the thought and the feelings that came with it aside along with the door to her headquarters as she ventured into the putrid air of Kadara. Feeling sorry for herself, or letting herself be distracted by the datapad burning a hole on her desk was the last thing she needed. Today was an event: The execution of Vehn Terev. All of Kadara Port would be here as they typically were for executions, and, indeed, her people were beginning to gather on the streets.

Originally, Sloane hadn't made a show of them, just the display of their aftermath. It wasn't to be histrionic beyond a quiet message to the Kett and any other would-be foes that would challenge them: A necessity for survival. Especially with their numbers small upon arrival, and dwindling every day. The last thought, Sloane shoved angrily aside, to be dealt with when she had a moment. On their own, her people had turned scheduled executions into an event: Umi turned her music up, the shops closed, street vendors came to peddle food and souvenirs, there was singing, juggling, dancing, and any other assortment of fanfare. Sloane half-wondered if it still had anything to do with the actual execution, or it was just an excuse for them to celebrate. Perhaps a little of both. The idea of having something to celebrate brought a rare smile to her face. Today was reason enough. Nothing was worse than a traitor.

She waved at a few people passing by: Morgan Reis and a Salarian named Roeven Prenn, both had been sanitation workers aboard the Nexus and found themselves in the same occupation here on Kadara. Hard workers. Always paid up in time; sometimes a little extra for "next month." Sloane filed that away when she was back in the office. That sort of loyalty deserved a reward of some kind.

Stopping, she nodded and waved at a few more passers by. They all ventured a smile and some sort of greeting, but there was variations in how well her presence was being received. Private opinions weren't a crime. It's if those eyes found a mouth. Her critics on Kadara Port still knew where their bread was coming from, and who was stopping the Kett and the Collective from getting in.

The final stop before the square was Kralla's Song. In what had become somewhat of a tradition for her, too, she looked forward to stopping inside for the usual snide banter with Umi and a shot of whatever was the flavor of the week. Hopefully, it would be something better than the toilet water that had been coming from her stills as of late.

Sloane's encouragement of the arts had led to a couple of promising bands, mostly electronic music in nature, since instruments were hard to come by; either lost to The Scourge, or still locked away on the Nexus. The most popular band was an all-asari group called The Benezias. Their hit, "Crests Of Kadara" was the best song yet and greeted Sloane from the outside of the bar as it had been greeting everyone for the past three weeks. She made a mental note to have someone construct Umi a jukebox as a favor.

Sloane descended into the bar area and nodded at the modest crowd, most of whom were gathering drinks in preparation to go outside and join the festivities. Umi Henon was at the end of the bar with an attractive newcomer named Lana Press. Sloane had been noticing the two of them together more and more. She didn't know much about Lana except that she was part of the unlucky bunch that had first been woken up when the Nexus hit the Scourge, and until recently, had been making her living on the Nexus as an artist. What brought her here, she hadn't opened up to. Something that made her a little nervous in the back of her mind, but Lana's personality seemed to be innocent enough that her intentions were most likely not malevolent. Sloane hadn't pressed the issue, but filed this new association with Umi away for later.

Umi ignored them, engrossed in the discussion she was having with the young woman, smiling at her in a gentle way that made Sloane blush slightly. Regretting disturbing them, but knowing Umi well enough that she would either rip her apart with her biotics or stab her to death if she vaulted over the bartop, Sloane rapped on it with her knuckles.

Tearing herself away, the older asari approached. "Oh, it's you." She said, faking like she was going to head back to Lana.

Sloane couldn't help a laugh. "She seems like better company anyway."

Pouring The Outcast leader a drink, Umi slid the shot glass to her. "She is, and she looks better." The asari also handed her a ration stick. "Eat something with that too. You look like shit."

Sloane nodded appreciatively at both the food and drink. She took the glass and downed the burning liquid. It didn't taste nearly like the battery acid that she and Addison had consumed on the Nexus, but very close to it. There was that name again. "How's it going?" She asked, giving Umi a knowing look.

"None of your fucking business is how it's going." Came her deadpan response. There was an element of humor, but Sloane knew that there were teeth behind the reply. Something that she could appreciate in this very moment, and signaled to Umi with a relenting nod and a gesture for one more.

Umi was one of the people that had come along with the original band of Exiles, and one of the older asari in Heleus. Having bartended on Thessia for several centuries, and now found herself doing the same on this miserable planet, she was one of the few people that Sloane had met in all of Andromeda that truly had no fucks to give. Her blunt neutrality had earned her respect from everyone with the exception of a few of the more xenophobic angara, and her bar was seen as a neutral space for the same reason. Though...that didn't stop the occasional fight from breaking out.

Sloane downed the second shot. Sliding the shotglass back to Umi, she brought up her Omni-Tool and typed in her payment...with a little extra, she thought, in a rare moment that was completely devoid of anger and hatred. That miserable old cuss of an Asari could use a good shag...she stopped herself and regarded Umi and then the young human woman for a moment. Or love.

"I'll let you get back to it." Sloane said, making sure to keep her voice even. Though, the charity did not go unnoticed by the bartender. "Buy her something nice."

Nodding appreciatively, Umi turned back to the young human with a, "happy hanging."

The idea of people starting families on Kadara seemed absurd on the surface, but Sloane relished the idea. Of course, the goal since they had all left the Nexus had been survival, and that seemed to be the ongoing mission with this planet's harsh environment and the fights that were slowly boiling into wars. However, the overall mission of coming to Andromeda was to _live_. Pairing off was going to happen eventually. It was a natural course of things. It would also be good to keep the demand for housing down. At least until they started having children. Oh sure, the chemical blockers were still in place, but it was only a matter of time before someone started undoing those or the bodies of these brave pioneers started working around them. _Then what?_ Sloane thought to herself, becoming keenly aware that despite her best efforts, resources remained finite.

Having exited the bar back into the Govorkam sunlight, she took a moment to look around at the people milling around, suddenly imagining small children being carried on shoulders, playing in the middle of the square, being toted along by their parents: Human families, mixed families, maybe angaran families. _Yeah right._ She thought with a bitter laugh. Maybe when the air and water had been purified. The tickle of hope re-entered her mind as she remembered the Pathfinder's presence on Kadara. On the surface, she had been here for the man that Sloane was about to execute, but she was also coming back. Vehn Terev wasn't Alex Ryder's only mission on Kadara, and neither was delivering a datapad filled with Addison's assclappings. The hope turned to fear that shivered its way through Sloane's body as she made her up the podium, Kaetus and Zaw on either side of her. Anyone who had been following Alex Ryder since her arrival knew what she was capable of and that she was all mission with the self-righteous morality of Jien Garson, which meant little caring about Sloane's personal drama between herself the people here or the people on the Nexus. It spelled trouble ahead for Sloane.

Looking out, she eyed the crowd, and then the face of the man of the man of the hour. A face that would soon be empty and drying in the sun on a spike outside the gates. Vehn didn't cower, which Sloane had to give him credit for. He looked her in the eye, but wasn't remorseful. He looked defeated, resigned to his fate. Did he really think that he could run forever? Did he expect some sort of hero's welcome for a man who had sold out his own people to their worst enemy? Caused countless suffering? All because of his cowardice. This wasn't the face that deserved pity, or a second chance. He'd has his. Looking at him, she remembered waking up on the Nexus to the alarms, the fire, the blood and charred bodies. She remembered catching Addison in her arms as the station lurched through the darkness, the feel of her gentle hands on Sloane's neck after her fight with Falarn's gang, only to have her stand in judgment. She remembered staring at the Scourge through a tiny shuttle window, and watching the people she fought to protect die fighting the Kett all the while looking for food, some place to live. Betrayal bit hard, and she used the blood from the wound to begin today's festivities.


	9. Poetry

The Colonial Director had intended on delaying her presence at the meeting with HNS as much as she could. Even though the HNS reporters hadn't arrived yet, Tann insisted that she show fifteen minutes early with the intention of rehearsing the final decision on Keri's work. Normally, Addison was punctual, complied with all of Tann's requests as best she could, and had been an eager participant in the meetings with HNS. Today, dread tugged in the back of her mind and at the back of her heels, keeping them moored to the deck plates as she leaned against the rail on the first landing leading to Operations. Originally, the temptation had been to hide in her office, which had once been Spender's office, which was now filled with memories that Addison both wanted to wrap herself in, and erase completely from her mind.

Alex, Keri and Hakim Bakarat slowly walked up to Tann's door. Hakim walked several paces behind the two women, who walked side by side and as close to holding hands as two people could get without actually holding them. They spoke briefly. By the look of it, Alex was doing her best to inspire Keri as well as give her a farewell kiss with her eyes. One that Keri returned and was tempted a moment to actually kiss the Pathfinder, but didn't. It was cute, and made Addison both sad and embarrassed to witness.

 _Young fools. The both of them._ She thought. _So naive._ Addison wasn't as close to Alex Ryder as she had been to her father, which, to say the least, was merely as a professional acquaintance. The Pathfinder's personnel file with the Initiative, which included her Alliance service record, spoke favorably of her for the most part, aside from a puzzling section in which Alex seemed to regress in her career. There were no mentions of discipline issues. She theorized it might have had something to do with Alec and his controversial work with artificial intelligence. If this were true, it would give Alex an understandable edge to her temper, which she didn't seem to have. Perhaps bygones were bygones, or she was more of a professional than the Colonial Director gave her credit for. There was a story behind her squared shoulders and the network of tattoos, but not one that was stored in any official record. It didn't matter. None of her past mattered. She reminded herself. Everyone here had come with the idea of a new beginning. Including Ryder. One thing that Addison already knew of Alex was that she was honest, as honest as the reporter that had caught her eye. It was a good match, but it was a dangerous one. One that this hellscape was certain to destroy.

She hated herself, instantly, for thinking such a thing. Part of her wanted more than anything for their hope to never fade; that their song could sing louder than the walls of this tin whale, louder than the Scourge could hope to dampen. Louder than the one she once sang.

Leaving Tann alone with the press was an even worse idea, and running away from her present wouldn't solve anything either. Whether locked away in a closet or out here, she was haunted from room to room all the same. Addison was a prisoner to the life she had assumed. _New beginnings, right?_ She asked internally of a Jien Garson that roamed an Operations deck that she wouldn't even recognize if she were here. The thought brought sarcasm bubbling to the surface, which smoothed over her mood like a soothing blanket. There was no time to wallow, no time for poetry.

Well...maybe there was time for one verse.

She pushed off from the railing and approached. “Go in. Tell Tann I will follow in a few moments.” Addison said softly to Keri. “Pathfinder, may I speak with you?”

Alex glanced at Keri, and the two touched each other's arms before the asari disappeared with her producer behind Tann's door. For a moment, the Pathfinder looked as though Addison had sent her to prison. The thought touched on the image of Sloane Kelly and ignited a feeling of hatred. Not of Sloane, not of the Pathfinder, but of herself.

Turning her charcoal eyes back to the Colonial Director, Alex did her best to maintain a neutral expression, but there was impatience and a frightening amount of resentment tugging at the muscles of her mouth. “I delivered your message.”

She guessed correctly at Addison's first question.

“And?” Addison asked of her, trying to keep her voice as low as possible.

Alex raised her brows conveying her lack of surprise. “Well, you guessed correctly at how she would react. She broke the datapad in half...well, one of her goons did.”

Addison let out a sigh that was far more disappointed than she wanted Ryder to see. Doing her best to rein in her emotions, she focused on the Pathfinder's last words. Intelligence reports she has gotten from Tann's office had pointed to the fact that Sloane had settled on Kadara, was running the Outcasts, but she hadn't bothered to really digest how. Knowing the former Security Director and that hamburger head of hers, it was with that mouth, a fist, and a gun...and possibly an airlock. “Goons...” Addison repeated, thinking about that dark stare from Sloane Kelly across the dimly lit conference table. Her brilliant eyes dulled by the glint of anger...hate.

She heard her own words spoken to Sloane at her trial. They'd left her with almost nothing. She closed her eyes, seeing Sloane approach, her fist curled to strike, snarl upon her bloodied face. She reared back, Addison blinked expecting the hit, but it was meant for Tann. As if in slow motion, Sloane Kelly's arm came around, and flesh met flesh with the startling crack of a gun. It hadn't sounded like that, but the echo of the gunshot rang through Addison's ears, and the image stained her mind along with Sloane's blood. An unexpected tear fell, and Alex pushed her aside into a dark corner under the ramp she had been standing on.

Realizing that she had made herself vulnerable to the Pathfinder, Addison pleaded with her silently.

Alex responded with a nod. “I'd offer a handkerchief, but Keri used mine already. Lots of that today...” she said. It was meant to assuage as she struggled with what to say. “I won't pretend to know, and didn't read what you sent.”

Addison exhaled deeply, finally getting a handle on herself. “Figures. No one else reads my messages anyway. I don't know what I expected.” She ran a gloved hand through her short, red hair. “Out of anyone on the Nexus aside from Tann and maybe Kandros, I am the last person she wants to hear from.”

“You took a risk. Care to fill me in?” Alex asked.

Foster paused to think. The idea of opening up felt good. Despite her youth, Alex had a level of professionalism and experience that she admitted, she felt she could trust. Where they stood now was one of the areas that she had found Sloane's cameras after she left the station. While she, Kesh, and Talini had overseen their deactivation, Addison wasn't entirely confident that they hadn't found a new location or another device put up in its place.

The Director's Omni-Tool chimed. Part of her was surprised that Tann was actually waiting. Idly, she hoped that he had been thoughtful enough to, at least, offer them some lunch. It was almost that time.

“Not out here. Find me after I meet with your...with Keri.” Addison said. She moved to Tann's office.

“Go easy on her.” Alex said. The firmness to the Pathfinder's voice made Addison pause. Ryder was attempting to barter her reputation for Keri's. Unpredictable, and a surprisingly political enough move that Addison was impressed. However, there was a problem with the documentary idea, and Keri T'Vessa being Tann's project and not hers. The fact that Addison had only been looped in on these hearings were for the purpose of paperwork: To make it seem as though protocol was being followed.

“I'll do my best, but I may not have a choice.”

Alex gave her a hard stare. There was a menace behind her eyes that she had seen before only once and it wasn't in Alex Ryder. The idea that the Pathfinder and Alec Ryder's daughter could conjure up such a darkness was enough to send questions and chills down Addison's spine. Refusing to let any amount of intimidation show, she squared herself to Ryder just as she had to Sloane Kelly and said, “Pathfinder, you are swimming in a cloudy pool filled with sharks. Beware your feet.”

Before the young woman could respond, Addison had turned her back and made her way to Tann's office.


	10. Truth Hurts

“So nice of you to join us.” The sarcasm in Director Jarun Tann's voice wasn't disguised in the least bit. Upon reaching the top of the stairs to the rest of Pathfinder Headquarters, the Colonial Director found Tann in the sitting area just before his desk with Keri and Hakim. Datapads strewn about a the shiny, white coffee table that Tann had once merrily advertised as a place for the Pathfinders to all gather and share their experiences with.

Quite the opposite of its intended purpose, the hall was devoid of Pathfinders, and instead it was being used as a vehicle to not only bully the only Pathfinder there was, but the woman that Addison strongly suspected would be the future of the Ryder family.

Intimidation was the primary reason why Tann had chosen this spot. The other reason was far more selfish: It was his opportunity to boost his ego. He referred to this area as the “trophy case,” talking to anyone who would listen about the treasures in this room as if he had anything to do with them. Above Keri's head flashed photos taken of the outposts that Alex had established: Prodromos, Havarl, and Taerve Uni. There were also pictures of Aya, and Habitat 7, where Alec Ryder had been buried.

Behind Keri's head hung a shiny set of Initiative armor with the initials _A.L. Ryder_ on the breastplate, which Addison knew to stand for Alexandra Louise Ryder. The dark haired twenty-something that had been covering for her a moment ago under the stairwell. It wasn't actually Alex's armor, however. Alex had gifted her set to Director Tann, but it had been damaged so badly from combat that no amount of Omni-Gel or spit and polish could erase the cold reality of what the job of Pathfinder really was. Instead of opting to hang it up in the case, Tann insisted that they dig out a set from the armory and put her name on it. It sparkled in the pale overhead lights in its manufactured glory, next to another set of the same armor with _J. Garson_ on the chest. Foster recalled that Jien Garson's sets were gifted to the scouting teams when they left the station, and none of them made it back. Her suit had been one that Addison, herself, had been holding onto and had once been labeled with the name S. KELLY. Tann didn't know. He didn't need to know.

Unsurprisingly, Keri didn't look intimidated in the least bit, or interest in the glitz around her. Instead, she kept her focus on Tann as he prattled on, tearing apart her work, and did what he did best: Manipulated Keri into accepting the role that Tann wanted her to play. It wasn't a palatable thought, but it had to be. Regrettably, for Keri T'Vessa, what was being asked of her was for the good of the mission...and it was.

Occasionally, Keri turned to Addison, searching for an ally. Here she would find none. Ryder's appearance had only amplified those still feeling unrest, as the feeling of hope generally does for those still mourning the loss of The Dream. Addison knew that Keri came from somewhere and understood more than she let on; at least to Tann. Not that it would be lost on him, he nosed around in everything on “his” station and into everyone's lives. The chorus that Addison had to give Keri T'Vessa was: “There is a such thing as too much truth.” It was the drum beat that Captain Marina Drennsi, Addison's mentor had once told her, and it was something that even Jien Garson knew. Both were wise to everything related to the politics, of running a successful society...at least that's what Addison had believed up until this point.

How fake that idea was, she thought, lifting her gaze to the window behind Tann's head and the tendrils of the Scourge as it swirled behind his head. How fake all of this was. Sloane had said, her voice cutting through the darkness as Addison clung to her like a life raft, that the mission hadn't changed. Just the circumstances had.

“Truth...hurts...” Addison said aloud.

“Yes, I would say so.” Tann's nasally voice cut into Addison's thoughts. He tilted his head quizzically as if correctly guessing that she hadn't been paying attention. Keri and Hakim seemed to have not noticed, or if they did, said nothing.

The better part of herself said that she should feel embarrassed at having no idea what was being discussed, or she had been asked. Instead, her heart felt empty of everything but the rage that would accompany an animal that was trapped.

Captain Drennsi had also spoken of composure, and the necessity of it in a political setting. Losing her temper in front of Tann would be therapeutic at first, but in front of HNS, damaging. Both to her, and it would give the appearance of Nexus leadership further unraveling before an ordinary civilian.

“Or more correctly, there is a such thing as too much of it.” Tann said, glancing at the asari and the human. “While I applaud your devotion to it, and also to Ryder for her honesty, I don't think we can use any of this or Ryder's quote.” He tapped Keri's datapad and played back the recording.

Keri was quiet for a short moment and rubbed her freckled temples. "You know what? I thought I could do this. I'm sorry, Alex,” she said to the ceiling, “I can't. Directors, when you asked me to do this documentary, it was with the understanding that we tell the story of how we got here: Our story...which means the truth no matter how uncomfortable it might make us. Each of our cultures have stories about brave people who journeyed into the unknown just like all of us. It wasn't all rainbows and moon beams for them, either. Each of us have sacrificed something in Andromeda: Be it our goals, an object, a person...even ourselves. We owe it to everyone here on this station, who are out there sacrificing themselves to give us all a better life, and those who aren't here any longer to tell the actual story and nothing but."

“ _We make the greatest sacrifice any of us have ever, or will ever, make_.” Director Tann quoted Jien Garson. It was something Sloane had also quoted a few times, once amidst the first round of chaos and destruction. When this whole room had been engulfed in fire, blood. Addison remembered seeing her own upon her hands and her uniform as it dripped from her forehead. Sloane's own hands covered in both of theirs as she desperately tried to keep everyone alive.

Keri was right. Sloane had been right, too, but it was a little late for that. It was also too late for Keri T'Vessa, just like it had been too late for Sloane Kelly. The image of Keri was replaced temporarily by Sloane, looking over her brow, face twisted in a rage that was more out of pain than it was anything. Blood on her face, uniform, hands, sorrow, confusion in her eyes...loss. Addison had said the same thing then. Her own words pierced through her eardrums as Tann responded to the asari.

"As always, your eloquence showcases your talent as a shining star of HNS, Ms. T'Vessa." Tann said in his usual condescending tone when he was really trying to be reassuring. He stepped down to where Keri is and tried to touch her shoulder. To Addison's amusement, she avoided him. "I don't think there is a person on this station that isn't fully aware of what they sacrificed to be here, or that we are short on food, water, power....even the air we breathe. One resource that we are also in short supply of, but can be replenished far more quickly is hope. It's a critical one that will help our future. That's your real mission, Keri. Stories that focus too much on the negative breed civil unrest, which I don't have to remind you is something we don't need more of." The last statement was meant as a threat to the reporter, and she seemed to pick up on it, but it didn't phase her. "It also does disservice to the rest of those people out there that have made it through The Scourge, those that are on the front line to bring us this future, and those like Jien Garson and the Ryders who have sacrificed a whole lot more than you." Tann continued.

The last comment unnerved Addison, and she shot him a sternly worded, "Tann!"

"Then, perhaps you should write the fucking thing yourself," Keri said, tossing a datapad on the coffee table before them. She rose to her feet. Her sapphire eyes were dark with a recognizable rage. "That's all my footage, my notes, and the response from Alex to your question. Just get it back to me or Davis before 8 AM tomorrow if you want it to be seen by anyone on our network." She turned and started to leave, but was stopped by Tann's voice.

"I'm giving you a different perspective, Keri. As a journalist, I would think that you, of all people, could appreciate that. However, if you prefer to give up on your documentary in favor of dramatics, I understand. I can get someone from the cultural center to pick up where you left off. All I am asking is for you to consider your present audience. We can include your additional footage as a memoir when we can afford to spend more time looking back instead of forward."

Everything that was transpiring today was because of the Uprising. There were still thousands of people waiting aboard both the Nexus and the Hyperion, she told herself. One reporter wasn't worth all of it, just like one Security Director hadn't been worth it then, either. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much of her soul it cost. _It was about sacrifices, right?_ She asked the question to Jien Garson as though she were capable of answering.

In the end, Addison would rise in the morning, look at her hollow figure in the mirror, scrape some makeup over it to make herself feel human, and come in again tomorrow. There would be another bullshit meeting with Tann. He would regale her with how great he was and how good of a job he was doing keeping order on the Nexus, while Addison stared at new faces in Kandros' jail, and the ghost of Sloane Kelly haunted her through the darkened windows of her morning tram while Keri T'Vessa read the morning news in a poached voice and greeted a Pathfinder to whom she could never write a fitting love letter.

Addison glanced at the datapad that Keri had thrown, a sentence accidentally highlighted by the gentle thumb of the asari, _enemy._ Everything wrong about this moment went beyond these two reporters and this room. Knowing his colossal failure at controlling the situation with the Exiles, and the idea that Sloane Kelly might have been right had given Tann enough of an excuse to not only blame them for the entire Uprising, but also go on a warpath to eliminate the one mouth which could possibly topple his glorious glass castle. It wasn't all Tann's fault, either. Addison had been as much a player. Not that she hadn't done her part in trying to deflect the heat from Sloane, but it wasn't enough, and neither was silence. This wasn't what Jien had envisioned, or her, or any of them. More importantly, it wasn't what Foster wanted. Lifting her gaze to Keri for a split second, the Colonial Director gave the reporter what she had been seeking earlier before letting her know with her eyes that the meeting had ended as Keri had requested.

The Colonial Director rose to her feet and was met by a confused look from Director Tann, who followed suit, but only because the other member of Nexus leadership in this room did so.

Keri seemed to catch on, her posture softening. She let out an exasperated sigh and said, “shove it up your ass, Tann.” Turning on her heel, she made her way to the exit.

“Keri T'Vessa!” He called after her. Neither one of them stopped, their heads disappearing below the planter box in front of the staircase leading to the door. “If either of you make any of what we discussed public, there will be consequences!”

Tann's secretary barely got a word out before the door to his office opened and closed shut, leaving the two directors alone.

“You could have done more.” Tann shot at Addison.

“I think you've done enough.” Addison said coolly. She made sure to give him an icy glare of disapproval before taking her own leave of him, this office, and this fucking situation.


	11. Morning After

_Leaving the situation meant returning to her office, which had once been Spender's office in that shadowy, ghost-filled swirl of chaos and uncertainty that was the Nexus 14 months prior..._

Sleep, let alone four hours of enjoyable sleep seemed like a luxury left to the Milky Way up until now. The splitting headache that accompanied being woken up was something she expected. What she hadn't expected, and perhaps if she would have had she more foresight to not consume half a bottle of Nexus toilet water, was the piercing light drowning out the silhouette of head crests of whom she could only guess was Sergeant Talini. In fact it was. The Asari lowered her lantern, averting her eyes out of embarrassment.

“Goddess...um...” a feeble, awkward, chuckle came from Sloane's deputy.

It took Addison a fraction of a second to remember where she was and that the soft, dark mass underneath her chin was the shirt covering the chest of Sloane Kelly. She rumbled with irritation, the sound more pleasant in Foster's ear than she wanted to admit. A steady hand went to her back as if to investigate where she was and also protect her from falling off.

“What the fuck?” Sloane's movements were more dramatic, and the hand that held Addison close gripped her more firmly. Addison tried to slink under her hand in the idiotic hope that it would shield her ass and the rest of her from Talini. Lifting her gaze, she found Sloane filled with embarrassment and what looked like a hint of regret.

“I'm...sorry, Directors.” It was an apology, but laced with the level of childish humor that Addison would expect from someone under Sloane's command.

“Turn that bloody thing off,” Foster growled at the lantern on Talini's armor as she pushed herself off the Security Director. She was good enough to oblige and switch it off, leaving the three of them in the violet, chaotic shadows of the Nexus.

Addison sat on the lip of the couch and gathered her bearings. What time was it? As if it mattered. Looking down, she noticed that her uniform was askew and she tugged at the hem to right it. Thank God it was still on. Even worse, she caught the freak show that was her hair and makeup staring back at her from the half empty bottle of Nexus swill that was on the floor. Thinking about the peals of laughter that Sloane and Talini would have at her expense was enough to cloud her with irritation. She smoothed her hand through the comical array of red cobwebs in a futile attempt to tame it, and pushed herself to her feet with nary a backward look to Sloane. Her stomach churned and her head pounded. Certain it was the alcohol from the night before and not the fact that she had just been caught in the arms of the most unlikely person, she stood and eyed the bathroom connected to the office.

Worse: That one person that she would have never in a million years, or 600 for that matter, would have imagined herself with, regretted everything. She knew better than to try and open up to anyone, let alone try to trust a degenerate like Sloane. The more she thought the angrier she got and the more her head and stomach told her that the solitude of the bathroom connected to this room would be worth the price of the disappointing cold shower that followed.

“What's going on?” Sloane asked, her voice rumbling pleasantly once again in Foster's ears. She could feel Sloane's eyes on her and she turned.

“We caught someone breaking into the food stores again,” Talini said. Her voice was low, but loud enough for Addison to hear.

"How come you didn't call me?"

"Power short during the middle of the night took out all but short-range comms. Kesh is working on it and thinks she'll have it up and running before the end of the day."

Curiosity stopped Addison's footsteps and she caught Sloane's gaze for a moment as she spoke to her officer. Instead, the usual hard edges of her soul were soft to the touch, her eyes telegraphing a subtle wish that she could stay with an apology that seemed to place the the mess that had her pulling on her uniform coat squarely on her shoulders, as if she had anything to do with it. Sweetness was certainly something she had not expected from the Security Director, and the way this trait colored the soot of her demeanor endeared her to the point where Addison found herself admiring the way her body contorted as she talked with her subordinate: Not graceful, but deliberate. Artful like an athlete. There were worse people to look at on this station...or to be held by.

Perhaps the look of disdain hadn't been directed at her, but having been caught in a position that could compromise both their reputations. How would it look if it got out that the Security Director and the Colonial Director were a little more than colleagues. Were they? It was just one night, and nothing had happened, despite what that liquor bottle implied. Whatever failings she had, Sloane had the Nexus' best interests in mind; at least her version of them. No one was perfect, and it was unreasonable for the Colonial Director to expect that everyone would think exactly like her; that was the beauty of life wasn't it? Variety. Variety of people. Without it, life would be this monotonous series of events with unremarkable people, and no chance at unexpected surprises. Like Sloane Kelly. Addison's headache turned into more of a painful swirl. Feeling a wave of vertigo along with the onslaught of last night's liquid dinner, Addison hurried inside the door to the bathroom and made it to the toilet just in time...well, mostly. It caught most of the foul smelling unpleasantness, though parts of her uniform were an unfortunate casualty. Even worse, that Nexus swill tasted better coming back than she remembered it going down; at least the first two shots...pulls.

“Fuck...” Addison swore at the tile and her own wretchedness. This would be the last bloody time she would ever drink. _Who am I kidding_ , she thought, struggling back to her feet, remembering the bottle of Asari Honey Mead she shared with Tann in Jien's office. Oh, if she could see her now, she mused, looking down at the stain on her uniform.

“That'll come out, right?” She asked of herself, her voice echoing back off the walls making her keenly aware that her words were still a little slurred. Looking over at the far wall and the mirror shard that still hung over the sink, she admired the newest decoration to her uniform. It was a splatter more like, and only could be passed off if this was Halloween and she were dressing up as an Afterlife party.

She sighed in frustration and glanced at the naked shower head. Washing her clothes in there might work, but wouldn't be ideal. There was no soap, and knowing her it wouldn't go as planned. She would be a miserable, frigid, puke-smelling mess: Frosty Addison would be her new nickname. What would Tann think? His bewilderment would almost be worth it, but his version of teasing wouldn't be. It would be more like an accusation of getting too close to Sloane, which was true, and then followed by ribbing by Kesh, then rumors, and then what happened out there would come to bite both her and Sloane in the ass, to say the least of how Sloane would react.

Instead of just whispers in the hallway about her failure it would be her failure and how she was suddenly having sex with the Security Director. Then, it would be that there was some kind of oligarchical conspiracy. Sloane's reaction to such rumors would be interesting and could go either way. Before now, Addison would have pegged Sloane as the type to join in the teasing, but after today, she might actually be offended. If so, that would likely mean she would beat someone up, and there would be hell to pay since the Security Director would have beaten up a civilian. Then what?

She turned on the faucet. Swishing some water around in her mouth to get rid of the taste of vomit, she splashed some on her face to help clear her mind and the pounding headache while pulling off her uniform coat. Thankfully, her gray Initiative undershirt was unscathed which offered her some hope for the journey to Operations.

However, the water didn't do half as good a job on the banshee clown look as she hoped. That might be something she'd have to brave until she could get to her makeup. Unless...she glanced at her Omni-Tool. Sloane was outside somewhere and could possibly get to, at least, her makeup. No, she had an emergency on her hands and was probably already at the Security Office with Sergeant Talini. Oh yeah, that would go over well. Suddenly, Talini would overhear Sloane being called by None Other requesting her makeup being brought to her. Oh, the swirl of rumors would fly and be made worse than they already likely were. Though, Sloane being teased about being asked to bring makeup would be cute, and sweet revenge, but not worth the sacrifice.

If Talini hadn't walked in would she have let something more happen? She thought of Sloane still in a haze of exhaustion running her fingers through her hair, maybe a gentle smile from that face she saw earlier; that would be enough to warrant a kiss. Wondering what Sloane's lips might feel like, taste like, she unbuckled her trousers and pulled a the hem of her undershirt over her head. If they were anything like the rest of her, deceivingly soft, sweet, and more supple than she would expect. She would taste like the salt and vinegar that colored her thin, even brow, with a hint of a spicy sugar that dripped from the rough touch of her meaty hands exploring her exposed skin.

A shiver stole her breath, and then expelled it from her body. Pushing up her bra, squeezed her breast where Sloane's hand would be, and then her mouth, tugging on an erect pink nipple. Addison bit her lip to stifle a cry of pleasure, bracing herself against the sink before making her way to the shower. She was alone right? No one here to see any of this, or guess that she might be fantasizing about the Security Director...or how it would be if she were in this room, those luscious eyes ablaze as she pushed Addison against the wall, kissing her hard while her hands kneaded the flesh of her ass in a possessive struggle to free her from the rest of her clothes. This was all so petty. There were better things to worry about than sex, but she didn't want to stop. She wanted Sloane to fuck her. Leaning against the wall in the shower, she closed her eyes, finding the sweet spot between her thighs. Sloane's fingers did the rest, playing her into a concerto of flesh, colors, sounds, and whimpered cries that left her on her knees and even more a mess than when she started.

Breathing heavy as the image of Sloane faded, she picked herself up, using the knob to the shower to support her weight. So stupid. It had to be the alcohol talking. Alcohol had a funny way of distorting images, people, ideas. She needed food. Letting out a deep sigh filled with embarrassment; mostly at knowing that despite her physical relief, her mind still thought of her. Turning the knob and was immediately blasted with ice cold water.

The following shriek that came out of her mouth was neither human nor anything becoming the Director of Colonial Affairs. Half certain the entire station heard her, she let the water run off to the side for a few moments before shutting it off. Well, if food wasn't enough to cure her of her fantasy, this certainly did. She wasn't too wet, but wet enough that the cold air of the station didn't make it any better. Even worse, she realized, was the lack of a towel.

“Fuck...” she cursed in a whispered breath, looking around. Spying her uniform, she tried to decide which piece would do best and which one she could afford to be wet for the next several hours. Perhaps the vomit-covered jacket? Maybe...she thought wandering over before a knock at the closed door caused an even greater panic.

Freezing in her tracks, Addison's new decision was now to attempt to frantically put on clothing, or just answer the door completely naked. The question of who was on the other side of the door was even more terrifying. _If only there was some way to find out,_ she thought sarcastically.

“Who is it?”

“It's me.” Sloane's unexpected voice was muted by the door. How long had she been standing there? She half dreaded the answer to that question, and the other half of her put a devil in her thoughts to actually answer the door completely naked.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had an emergency,” Addison replied, fairly confident she hadn't said Sloane's name earlier. Either way, this wasn't the fantasy, this was the actual woman. Pulling on that same Initiative undershirt from earlier, and her underwear, she was satisfied that this would do. The shirt being long enough to cover her ass made the ensemble not a complete eye-full, still spoke to the task at hand, and it had the added bonus of giving Sloane something to look at.

“I do...” Sloane's voice trailed off as the door parted. Those dark brows went up in a look of shock and what looked like a blush halted her next sentence. “I uh...yeah...um...that's being handled. In fact, I might need you later.” She seemed to force herself to look Addison in the eye, but her gaze wandered to her chest and to her obvious lack of pants. A little smile played at the corners of Addison's mind and lips while she did her best to keep her attention with a shift of her hips. “Good thing I brought you this,” she gestured to a bundle in her hands that looked to be clothing and a bizarre looking thermos. “Your makeup and some underwear. Never took you for the frilly hearts sort of girl.”

That ruined it. “Sloane!” Addison shot.

A laugh followed that appeared to be something that the Security Director wasn't able to help. At first, Addison felt cross, but noticed a kindness about her demeanor and the fact that Sloane was still trying not to stare too much, which took the wind out of any comeback she could think of. “I've also included my personal recipe for curing hangovers. Well...aside from a six hundred year nap. We are freshly short on towels, so the best I could do is an old shirt of mine, but I did scrounge up some soap.”

Taking the bundle, Foster set it on the sink. “Thank you. You went all the way to the Security Office, my quarters, and then here? With my underpants in your hands?”

When she turned around, Sloane was leaned up against the doorway, arms folded across her chest like she liked to do. “Not really. Some of the items I had Talini bring. You um...don't need to worry about her, or your undergarments. The last thing I want is to be seen wandering through this station with lacy heart panties in my hands.” Another blush across the Security Director's face despite the attempt at humor. She looked at the pile of clothes on the floor including her vomit colored jacket.

“Maybe go easier on the booze next time.” 

“I'm thinking so...” Addison responded. She wasn't angry, which surprised her. Ordinarily, Sloane being in her doorway staring at her soiled clothing, to say the least about wandering through the Nexus with her underwear in her hands, would be enough to set her off. Instead, all she could do was laugh at the ridiculousness of this entire situation: Being in here, this broken station, broken dreams, thinking about this woman standing before her that she would never have chosen, let alone trusting her enough to be half naked in front of her. Of course, she had been a different person in the Milky Way. Maybe more naive.

“Laundry day isn't for another two days, but in the meantime, you can wear this.” Sloane had pulled off her jacket and held it out to her. “You get colder than I do.” It was a conjured excuse. A good one, but Addison suspected that Sloane just wanted her to wear more of her clothes. While the offer was not unwelcome, Addison thought again of the ribbing she would receive being seen around the Nexus in Sloane's uniform jacket, no matter how comfortable it might be.

“I'll manage. Thank you.”

“You sure?”

Sloane had stepped out of the doorway. Foster approached her, taking the coat from her hands and wrapped her back in it. Better this way. Even without the prying eyes of the rest of the station, it was only a few hours, and most of her time would be spent in Operations. Having lived as long as she did in a climate with a respectable winter, Addison was prepared for the bitterness, but she did like the gesture. Downright sweet and almost uncharacteristically so. Perhaps Andromeda wasn't so bad after all. Without thinking, Addison rubbed her hand along the Security Director's bare, tattooed forearm, slipping under the short sleeve of her undershirt and giving her bicep a squeeze. A warmth colored Sloane's expression. Realizing what she was doing, Addison backed away in a panic. 

“Thank you again, Sloane,” Addison said hurriedly, trying not to think about how natural it felt to treat Sloane like the lover she hadn't been, or hadn't yet been, or the fact that she seemed to like it. “You should get back to work and I need to be in Operations.”

“Right...” Sloane said, her eyes back at the floor and a hand running along the top of her braids. She was thoroughly flustered. Addison couldn't help but smile at how cute it was seeing the Security Director taken from tough, calloused hero to bashful. It had been a long time since she evoked such a response in anyone. She made a mental note to do try it again, but perhaps in a different setting, or when they had more time to digest what was happening. Maybe with a different person. No...not a different person. No one else could give her the same strikingly mousy expression, or make her excited for yet another day in this hell hole. Nobody but _her_.

“I still um...might need you, but once Kesh gets the comms up and running I'll call...or maybe I'll just send a runner.” Sloane's voice was more confused than anything. She didn't move.

Addison didn't want her to move, but at the same time, there were things larger than the two of them just on the other side of that flimsy metal door. There would be time for this. Maybe in another life, she thought ruefully, and Sloane seemed to echo her own sadness as her gaze fell a little. However, part of her wondered in all of the tragedy they had endured, and all of the madness that was yet to come, would it really matter if she abandoned herself for just this one moment to be with this one person that had somehow, unpredictably made sense to all this bullshit? 


	12. Beautiful Nightmare

"What am I doing?" Addison asked more to herself than it was to Sloane. She tugged at the hem of her shirt self-consciously, realizing how she must seem to the Security Director standing here like an idiot. 

"I believe you are trying to seduce me," Sloane teased, looking less confused and more like she was blushing again. "You must have had a lot more than I thought."

Shoving aside her earlier feelings, Foster snorted and moved past Sloane, grabbing her trousers from the floor of the bathroom. "So it would seem. Perhaps the months of swirling around in this hellscape with you in this coffin has finally made me go insane, or perhaps getting hit in the head did more brain damage than I thought. I don't like you," she continued to rant as she dressed. 

"Good." Sloane said her tone and expression was flat. Addison couldn't tell whether she had hurt her feelings or not. No matter whether or not she did, it would be better if she had, Foster decided. Sloane was a big girl and would get over it, and it would mean one less distraction and duties could be resumed in peace. No more nights like this one, no more worrying about the complications of a messy romance in the midst of disaster.

"I never liked you to begin with. You're rude, foul-mouthed, stubborn, completely unrefined..." Addison continued, Sloane's expression souring in exactly the way she wanted.

"You forgot 'asshole,'" the Security Director said dryly.

A gentle hand stopped Addison from finishing her ensemble. "Yes, that, too..." Foster said, her voice stolen by the feel of Sloane's soft skin against hers. She was in her eyes again, the sweet smell of her filling the air and stealing it from the rest of her rant.

Sloane's expression was dark, glassy with the exception of a hint of humor tugging at the corners of her lips. She always had to pick, and knew just how to unravel those threads of composure. It was maddeningly distracting.

"And you are prissy, self-righteous, inconsiderate, and also a colossal asshole. And I don't like you either." The latter was said more as an afterthought as though she were adding teeth that really weren't there. Sloane's velvet voice drifted into the thin space between them and made any retort Addison could make impossible. Except one. The kind that found Foster pulling Sloane closer and pressing her lips against hers in a kiss that was nothing like what she had imagined.

Sloane was not rough but soft and adorably hesitant at first. Not so much charcoal to her touch, but if gunpowder had a taste, it was embodied in Sloane Kelly and she caught fire quickly. A small noise escaped Foster and there was a heavy hand at the back of Foster's head, those thick, muscular fingers threading through her hair possessively as she traded unspoken barbs in poetry coated with molten molasses that set her core aflame. Gone was any semblance of the nightmare outside this room, or the duties that both of them were now neglecting. Instead, it was all replaced by a disembodied utopia that Foster had forgotten ever existed. More and more Addison wanted to wrap herself in it, wrap herself in Sloane, this beautiful soul that she had somehow fell into. Everything was wrong with this moment, but at the same time, everything felt so right.

Fueled by mutual abandon, Foster grabbed handfuls of Sloane's undershirt and pulled it from her body. Caressing her, Addison memorized the way she felt: Every mole, every scar, every fold to her muscles as they trembled. Sloane gasped delectably against her lips, her eyes fluttered open and offered a dark, humid smile that soaked her between her thighs.

"Please don't stop," Foster pleaded, her voice catching in her throat as Sloane stole her breath one more time. Any amount of restraint that the Security Director had was betrayed, and she promised fulfillment of the earlier fantasy. Perhaps she had overheard after all, maybe she had been fantasizing herself. What sort of fantasies did Sloane Kelly have? Were they gentle? Rough? Did it also involve pinning Foster against the wall and kneading her ass in her hands? A million questions that Addison preferred to be shown. Biting her lip seductively, her fantasy pounding at every inch of her body, Foster grabbed the hem of her own shirt and pulled it from her body, revealing her naked chest to the other woman. There was no point in pretending anymore and Sloane knew it better than she did as she took Addison by her belt loops and pushed her against her wall, pressing her lips to her neck. 

"Come here..." Sloane purred, her breath hot against her ear.

A loud knock at the door squashed the moment.

"Everything all right in there?!" Asked the voice of Sergeant Talini.

Before either of them could respond the door opened.

In a panic, Addison pushed Sloane away from her and actually slapped her hard across the cheek. "You are so incorrigible!" Foster shouted, searching for a plausible point to the accusation as she covered her chest while hurriedly pulling her shirt back on.

"Ow! Fuck!" Sloane grabbed her face. "What the fuck did I do? I just brought you things out of the rare kindness in my own heart," she growled, catching on where Addison was going. "It's not like I haven't seen tits before!"

"Oh...Goddess..." Sergeant Talini said, averting her eyes. "I'm sorry for interrupting, Directors..." Talini's voice trailed off. It was calm but her ordinary violet colored face was a deep shade of purple. She cleared her throat and moved shyly to the open doorway. "I was getting worried, so Kandros sent me," she excused. "Also Tann is looking for you, Director Addison. I'll tell him you are still indisposed, so he doesn't get any ideas, but you might not want to be too much longer otherwise he might come trying to find you just as I did. Unfortunately, Tann doesn't seem like the sort that wouldn't care. As for you...Ma'am," Talini said, swallowing her amusement while addressing Sloane. "I remind you we still have those two prisoners and our jail situation grows shittier by the hour...respectfully."

"I see you have been taught well," Addison said wryly, more amused that the asari had picked up on Sloane's casual profanity than she was mad. However, she did make note to speak with Sloane later on this subject. Preferably when Tann was not around.

"At least she doesn't smell," Sloane jabbed.

Talini was out the door before the Security Director. However, before Sloane left, she lifted her eyes and took one last look at Addison. The softness around her eyes, and tug at the corner of her mouth was enough to dissolve Foster into a shy smile of her own.

"We'll talk later," Sloane said before disappearing back into the nightmare.


	13. Tell Me Lies

Of all the things she could have done, this was the most stupid. Distraction was the last thing needed during a monumental crisis, and the worst kind of distraction being something as idiotic and selfish as the affections of a woman.

Was it affection, or was it just an attempt to feel human? Did it matter?

No, it didn’t.

What did matter was figuring out what to do with the two souls that were being detained in whatever this was passing as a jail cell.

Both the Turian woman and the human male behind the “bars” which were more like pieces of Nexus skeleton that Kandros, Sloane, and Sergeant Talini welded together, looked comical. Absolutely, they could break out if they were motivated, but they didn’t seem to be.

Perhaps it was the presence of armed security personnel, Sloane included? She hoped so, she thought, eyeing the Turian woman. She didn’t break eye contact. Like any good member of her kind, she had been studying the Security Director this entire time. 

According to personnel records, her name was Vetra Nyx. Not military, one of Kesh’s crew, and definitely hardened on the streets. She had that look about her; wheels turning as she searched Sloane for some kind of weakness. Like the memory of a certain Director of Colonial Affairs and the way she felt, her hands and lips peeling back the scabs and touching bare flesh. She had felt so human, so alive. Now was not the time for this, and her of all people. All of this was asking for trouble. Not just if it got out to the rest of the Nexus population that she and the Director of Colonial Affairs were...but had the potential to harm a professional relationship that, admittedly, was working. As vexing as Addison was with her prissy, cold standoffishness. It stood to hurt her too. What could she possibly have to offer Foster Addison? Love?

The thought made Sloane laugh sardonically.

Even if that was a word that could ever be applied to Sloane Kelly, who could find love in a place like this? The last thing she wanted to be was cruel, and it would be to offer her the slightest chance of something that could never be returned.

Sloane sat back down behind her desk and stared blankly at the datapad in front of her with her notes about her two prisoners. They were just scribbles on some lines; it didn’t take some asari with six doctorates to understand that these two were hungry and were just stupid enough to get greedy. They wouldn’t be the first, or the last; they just wanted to feel alive, too, like they weren’t just sitting here waiting to die.

“Sergeant Talini said you’d be here.”

Addison’s voice pierced through her thoughts. What was she doing here?

Sloane lifted her head and asked the question in a puzzled frown.

“Kesh is still working on our internal communications, so Tann sent me.” Foster said, leaning up against the doorway to Sloane’s office. She looked better than she did a few hours ago, though seeing Sloane’s jacket draped over her shoulders with the S. KELLY written on the breast was comical...and telling, now that she thought about it.

Sergeant Talini was making her rounds, and there were a number of lower tier officers and personnel in Operations that the Director of the Initiative could have sent to check up on her. Sloane also knew Foster well enough to know that even under orders, she wouldn’t venture from the creature comforts of her office without a protest.

To her credit, the Director of Colonial Affairs was getting better at keeping her expression neutral, though a glimmer behind her eyes betrayed any lie she could possibly have to tell. She had been sent, but didn’t put up a protest at all.

No matter, it was worth poking at her about. She was still cute when she was flustered. “Tann sent you as a runner?” Sloane asked, lifting a suspicious brow at her colleague.

Foster knew better than to lie, but she thought about it anyway and then stopped herself. “One more thing for me to do what with all of these colonies I have to direct.” The blanket of sarcasm did nothing to disguise the hurt in her voice, or the fact that Addison still felt useless. Though, a glint in her eye betrayed the idea that having no other tasks was the sole reason for her visit. It was tempting to slap her about over it, but Sloane found she didn’t have the energy and was simply glad to see her.

Remembering her guests, Sloane kept her composure rose from her desk, coming around to the front and leaning against it, folding her arms across the Initiative t-shirt that had been underneath the jacket that Addison was now wearing.

Sloane snorted while she thought about that. “Did Kesh make fun of you?”

Addison’s expression flattened. “Yes. She has been calling me ‘Director Kelly’ most of the day. Thanks for that.”

Sloane laughed.

“I didn’t come here for your amusement,” Foster said dryly. She moved from where she leaned and approached Sloane. She was confident and held Sloane’s attention like the practiced bureaucrat she was; enough that it annoyed Sloane to the point that her mood soured comfortably.

“I read your report,” Addison continued. “You know we can’t exact punishment without your vote.”

Sloane thought a moment and sighed. “I can’t keep them here indefinitely, not that it would be difficult for them to just walk out of here if I stepped away for any length of time. The other would be cryostasis. We’ve done it before.”

“Except stealing food and trying to kill people are two different crimes.”

Sloane snorted. “Maybe when we weren’t starving to death on a space station.”

“What about a third option? One that doesn’t involve an airlock,” Addison added firmly, heading Sloane off at the pass.

At that, Sloane couldn’t help an amused smile to go along with her genuine interest. “Continue,” she said.

“Community service.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Vetra shot from her cell.

Sloane and Foster peeled themselves from their perches and approached the makeshift cell. The young human that had been Vetra’s accomplice, a gentleman identified as Steven Wilshen, hadn’t spoken a word since he had been detained. Like any smart man, he kept his eyes off Sloane except to acknowledge that she was there and she was just as menacing as she had been before.

Let the Turian dig herself a hole.

Having surrounded herself professionally as well as personally with Turians, Sloane knew that they responded best to firm confidence and direction.

“No, what you have been doing is surviving, along with the thousands of others on this station.”

Except she had a point. How would that work? Vetra and her friend were already part of Kesh’s repair team, and from Kesh’s records, they were two of the best ones she had. Shifting them to other duties might do more harm than good. Addison’s idea wasn’t a bad one, admittedly, but only a viable solution where the only members awake were people already performing essential tasks.

Clearly, it needed more thought, Sloane decided and touched Addison’s arm lightly to signal her to move back to where they had been in the office to discuss it more.

Unlike when they first met, Addison made no attempt to pull away from Sloane and instead her cheeks colored and she looked distracted a moment. “We can’t let them go,” Foster said, clearly trying to shove thoughts about earlier from her mind.

Thoughts that had crept back into Sloane’s mind the longer she held onto the Director of Colonial Affairs, and allowed herself to pay attention to the way she felt. Like earlier.

“No...” Sloane’s voice trailed off as she thought more about her two prisoners. There was no good solution and thinking about it only made her face tired. Sighing, Sloane pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know. Can you give me some time to think?”

Addison nodded. “Tann won’t like that.”

“Tann can go--” Sloane swallowed the edge of her tongue as she recalled her prisoners again.

Addison looked amused. “I’ll try to smooth him out for you,” she offered and brushed her hand against Sloane’s reassuringly. It was also a clandestine attempt to flirt, as was her lingering gaze that Sloane allowed her to hold.

“Thanks,” Sloane said in a rare moment of softness.

Foster nodded and moved toward the door and then stopped. “Sloane...we should talk...” she said, her voice trailing off cryptically. Conflict knotted her reddish brow and she searched her counterpart.

Everything that Sloane had been fearing before seemed to be evident now. There was no time for this. Not here, not now, she said with her eyes. Addison seemed to understand and smoothed over those emotions she dared to bring forth. If this had been another time or place. Maybe.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Sloane said flatly.

Foster nodded numbly. “Good. I won’t see you later?”

Best not. Sloane shook her head. “Even if I could leave this post, I think with you is the last place I’d rather be.” Biting, and hopefully enough.

Addison seemed comforted by the sudden cruelty. She nodded, and looked relieved before she left.

“So how long has that been going on?” Vetra asked.


	14. Favors

Shit...Sloane's blood iced over. “Well...” she began with edged sarcasm, turning to face the maintenance workers. “Director Addison and I have been working together since we woke up in this shithole.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Vetra’s tone was even, her expression knowing. Sloane was a bad liar outside the card table. Only guessing at her origins, the Security Director hazarded that she was a gang member of some sort or maybe a smuggler. Someone with a lot of street smarts that reminded her a lot of home..not home the Milky Way. Earth; some planet that she once knew, Sloane reminded herself with a pang of sadness.

Vetra had something and now she was going to try to use it. Like barter her way out of this prison cell and whatever punishment Sloane would ultimately decide on. Blackmail was a dirty trick, one that back in the Milky Way, was likely to get someone an extra boot to the ass before the handcuffs were on.

That was an evil thought, Sloane mused, setting it aside. She approached the jail cell.

This time, Steven stood, but kept his head lowered. He wasn’t stupid either. Looking subservient was his way of manipulating his captors. Where did he come from? Maybe one of the rats that crawled around the Citadel air ducts, or a scavenger from the streets of some city on Earth, like New York, Los Angeles, Tokyo, or some other piss haven Sloane remembered all too well.

Whatever they were planning wouldn’t work here, and she told the two of them as much with her eyes. Except, Vetra called her bluff, looking at her level. There was fear behind the way she looked, however. Sloane felt empowered and, for the first time, afraid of herself.

This wasn’t one of those streets either, The Citadel, or even some Alliance stockade somewhere, and they weren’t military officers. Just ordinary people looking for something to eat.

“You haven’t asked us why we were stealing...” Steven finally said.

Vetra stirred as if to silence him, but he gave her a nudge.

There was purpose to his question. To what end? Garner sympathy? Everyone had a perfectly good reason, to them, for committing a crime. So, they were hungry, everyone was hungry. Sloane was hungry, but neither that nor her position of authority gave her license to pilfer from others. And that’s what this really was about. There were thousands of souls on this station that depended on everyone not in stasis to save them, and something seemingly so innocuous as stealing food made the inevitability of their deaths closer.

 _No, Sloane._ She felt sick for a moment as she chased the thought from her mind. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t empathize. All of this, except the being trapped on a space station in a new galaxy part, was so familiar. From rummaging around in dumpsters in Johannesburg to she and Korynn Shepard scrounging what they could off of bodies face down in the muck of Elysium.

In both places, desperation had been brought about through a lack of order, be it big picture or small. They also had the benefit of facilities that could properly hand down judgment for criminals, unlike this eezo powered deathtrap. What was there to do? Where could she put them? Could she really put two of Kesh’s best workers in cryo. That would, not only, decide how quickly everyone would die but how. It was also clear by Vetra’s face that she would be willing to talk for the right price.

“I haven’t,” Sloane admitted. “And I don’t care to know why. Either you are hungry, or someone else is...” she left her voice drifting off in a question.

Vetra picked up on it easily. “You know, Director, this incarceration has me shaken up pretty badly,” she said in a way that made Sloane question her sincerity but at the same time believe it. Her gaze was still fixed on Sloane, who, despite her size, elevated herself to as though she were eye-level to her. The maintenance worker didn’t back down. “We’re in here, behind these bars that you shittily welded together, while you prowl around in front of us being the only armed person in this room.”

“There’s two of you,” Sloane said evenly.

Vetra made a face. She was trying to butter her ego. Curiosity where this was headed got the better of Sloane and she let her have it. “I think being penned up while listening to you and Director Addison talk has been torture enough. I promise...to never do it again.”

She was really promising not to talk to anyone about Sloane’s conversation with Addison, or the thing she had correctly guessed about.

Sloane glared. She knew where this was headed. One thing she hated was owing anybody and she already could feel Vetra’s claws digging into her back.

“I’ll make up some story about how brutal you were and I will tell everyone how sorry I am.” Steven added.

“Just stop.” Sloane sighed in exasperation. She opened the cell door and stood aside as the two of them wandered out. "Both of you get the fuck out of my sight."

Vetra turned her attention to Steven and urged him out of the room with a nod to her head and remained a moment. The maintenance worker towered over the Security Director, who now had the dubious distinction of being the smallest member of Nexus Leadership. “Can I ask something?” She asked.

“What?” Sloane snapped.

“Addison? Really?”

Feeling her temper finally pop, Sloane growled. “Get out!” She snarled and ran the Turian out of her office.

Finally rid of both her prisoners and at least the happier thoughts that now came with Foster Addison, Sloane let out a heavy sigh and sank to the floor of her office. “Fuck...” she breathed.


	15. Hope

Facing Foster and her ire was the least of her concerns. Tann would be just as displeased with her making the unilateral decision to release Vetra and her accomplice. What good could it do to hold them anyway? She justified. Perhaps an implementation of a new justice system was in order: In the past, some human societies decided punishment based on a point system instead of direct response to a punishment: Certain offenses gave person a point instead of jail time, and something like a fine. How a fine would be imposed was also a difficult question, since no one was being paid and Sloane couldn’t consciously ask them to pay in food or water rations; that would be cruel. And they were already stealing. If not for themselves, for someone else. That was another question that bothered the back of her mind, and one where, perhaps, Vetra or her friend could come in handy.

Wanting to be alone with her thoughts while she waited, Sloane had ventured into Colonial Affairs, and a great room that was supposed to be a giant square, filled with plants of numerous variety, statues, paintings, information about where they had come from and where they were now...and who they were to be.

Gazing out at the darkened space, empty planters, and twisted remains of the present, Sloane couldn’t help a dark rumination that the future was being accurately portrayed.

At the head of the room was a large picture window where visitors could gaze out at the heavens and be reminded of wonder and promise. Somehow, this window was one of the few things that survived the Scourge hit, but had the misfortune of showcasing it as though the window were taunting it.

Around the perimeter of the window was a soft, ambient lighting meant to highlight the walk space and whatever wall decorations were supposed to be there, but not disturb the view with annoying glare. It, too, was working, and for a moment, Sloane found herself lost in the view. It was beautiful in a way.

“You asked to see me?” Foster’s voice startled Sloane from her appreciation and she turned around.

The Director of Colonial Affairs looked small in relation to the backdrop of the rest of the room, and she also looked beautiful, her pale face lighted with the soft ambiance around the window.

Sloane nodded. “We need to talk...and before you ask. Not, about that.”

Foster looked relieved, but curious as she approached. Her green eyes turned to the scene outside the window. “Enjoying the hairball I see.” It was an attempt at a joke. Bad enough that it earned her a laugh.

“I was thinking more like a coiled snake. Beautiful things tend to be the most deadly,” Sloane replied.

“ _’It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life….’_ ” Addison recited and stood at her side.

Sloane recognized the quote but let the moment stay in silence. She turned back to the window and followed Foster’s gaze at the swirling nightmare, letting her imagination ask those questions she hadn’t had a moment to ask since they arrived: What was it? Was it nature? Was it manufactured? Was it God? As she let her mind wander, she felt the gentle touch of Foster’s fingers on hers and she squeezed more out of reassuring trepidation than anything else. One moment longer before she had to spoil it.

“I let them go,” Sloane said finally, with a heavy sigh, turning her eyes from the window.

Foster’s face knit into a disapproving scowl. “You did what? Sloane, we have a vote!”

“I know, but I had nothing to hold them on--”

“--You said you caught them stealing,” Addison shot.

“--I did but--”

“--But what is there to debate? Sloane, we can’t be making unilateral decisions on anything, especially something this serious--”

“I know, Foss!” Sloane shot angrily. “What are going to do with them? Vetra is one of the best workers we have, we can’t just stuff someone like that back in cryo."

"I though that is exactly what you wanted." Foster looked confused.

"Vetra made a point."

Foster lifted her sandy colored brows in surprise. "Must have been to get her to change your mind."

"Can you not be a dick for one moment?" Sloane snarled. "What do you suggest? Should we throw them off the station? We might as well execute them. Then what? Nothing says Mutiny more than a passive aggressive death penalty. Is that the kind of people we are? There’s more...” Sloane stopped herself and looked around. She was confident no one was in the room, but there was no sense in taking any more chances. Taking Addison by the arm, she led her to the Adjutant Office that they were both familiar with. Once inside, she let go and took a deep breath. “Vetra figured it out.”

Foster frowned and then looked troubled, sitting on the back of the sofa. “Did you confirm it with her?”

“Not verbally. I didn’t have to.”

Foster got close and peered into Sloane’s face. “What. Exactly. Happened?” It was the first time the Security Director could ever remember Addison getting confrontational. Swallowing a pleased smile, Sloane recounted the events that took place in her office after Addison left.

“How can you be such a good card player when you’re so terrible at lying?” Addison moaned in exasperation, a hand on her head trying to soothe what looked like a healthy migraine.

“Maybe I’m lying about that.” Sloane couldn’t help.

Foster let out a disgusted noise and moved off the back of the sofa. “You're confident that you can trust her?"

"Look at it this way: She's just as trapped as we are. And maybe there is something more we can look at: Like, how we're distributing food rations, work with medical more in identifying crew members with dietary concerns and address them. Or if she's dealing rations, we can use her to find out who it is and put an end to it. The last thing we need on this station are hoarders."

Foster folded her arms across her chest. "Let me know what you find this time, and _don't_ act without me. Otherwise, I will be forced to bring it up with Tann. You know where that will lead. Seems like you were right in suggesting we call it off.” She waved her hand dismissively and paced about the room. It was darker in here than it was in the room outside, though the emergency lights did little to ease the romantic hue around her soft features.

“Not that there was anything to call off,” Sloane reminded her, shoving aside the urge to kiss her again. What was it about this room? Being here was a mistake, she decided and moved to the door. She had quarters. Far from here. Far from her.

“Right right...” Addison said quickly. Her voice caressed her ears the way her hands touched earlier, not forceful, but she knew what she wanted. Unsurprisingly, even with the weeks between here and the Milky Way, she still managed to keep her skin soft. It felt good to be touched, to touch someone else; to forget everything outside that threatened to tear humanity from both of them.

Of course, something else borne of this hellscape had to rob her of this chance. And what of Addison?

Sloane found herself hesitating. “This is so stupid,” she muttered, squaring herself to Foster. She came around the edge of the sofa and in a moment the Director of Colonial Affairs was in her arms, her lips hot against hers, open mouth searching, feeling, consuming.

Sloane grinned against Foster as that confidence pushed her to the broken cushions of the sofa. Addison straddled her, eyes dark in the low light. There was so much about all of this to regret, so much that could go wrong. None of it mattered, Sloane reasoned, pushing the gifted tunic from Addison’s body and pulling her undershirt off revealing a modest brazier and the well-defined, slender muscles of her abdomen and the freckles that went with it. What was going to happen? Either they get fired and then die, or they stay cold and lonely and then die. One of those had a happier end.

Sloane pressed her hands against Addison's toned stomach and relished the feeling of her velvet skin against her palms as she caressed upward and underneath Foster’s bra. Cupping her breasts, Sloane massaged gently. She had nearly forgotten this. Maybe it was the stress of everything that happened, maybe it was the six hundred years between her and the last time she touched a woman, but it felt even better than she remembered. Maybe it was Foster, herself, and the way she closed her eyes, tilting her head back as she melted under her hands, and the wet noise that escaped her lips.

The giggle that escaped Foster's bubblegum lips seemed so unlike the woman she knew. Sloane savored it and the look Addison gave her as she bit her lip seductively before she tore her bra off in a single move and then hooked her fingers around Sloane’s belt buckle, unfastening it.

Sloane chuckled nervously. Thinking about the Director of Colonial Affairs somewhere down there, she felt a warm tickle in her stomach and she squirmed. No, this was definitely Addison's doing. All her fault. She reached out to run her fingers through Foster’s hair, but she moved away too quickly, sinking off the sofa and pulling off her boots and then her socks and then tugging at the cuffs of her pant legs.

Sloane couldn’t help but roll her eyes and wiggled, pushing them off her hips. “Gotta be better at that, Foss,” she said, her words catching in the core of her chest and set aflame as Addison pulled them off her body, exposing her bare legs to the cool air of the station. She was still covered in her Initiative boxer briefs, which earned her a coy smile.

“Somehow, I was expecting little hearts,” Foster joked and sat back on Sloane’s lap.

“I aim to disappoint,” Sloane replied, her voice like smoke. She grabbed the hem of the short sleeve Initiative undershirt she wore and pulled it of her body. She was naked underneath, no time to rummage around for a clean bra today.

Foster’s face flickered in both pleasure and amusement. Her fingers went to a few moles on Sloane’s neck, and traced the lines of the infantry tattoos that decorated her chest and abdomen. 

Sloane gasped.

Foster lifted her gaze and took in the wondrous sight of the Security Director coming apart in her hands. So hard usually, but so wonderfully soft and she shivered the more Foster touched her. It was addicting, being in Sloane's arms like this, having her look this way. Who had she been before all this? Not the woman the personnel files said she was, but the actual person; the one who brought fire to those gorgeous, heterochromatic eyes that plied her soul the way she wanted her fingers to ply her. Foster let loose with another giggle as thick as velvet and kissed Sloane’s hardened jaw.

Sloane made a small noise of pleasure and threaded her hands through the soft strands of red hair on her lover’s head as she cupped her breasts and nibbled down to her collarbone. “Ugh...Foss…” She groaned and cupped the still-clothed hips of the Director of Colonial Affairs. Oh fuck this. There was no way, Sloane was going to be The Naked Girl in the room.

Foster straightened and grinned as Sloane flashed her a dark smile, coated in molasses. She unfastened Addison’s pants and gently took her around her waist and lowered Foster onto her back on the sofa.

Sloane kissed Foster with deep intent and her hands underneath her underwear and groped the inside of her thighs.

Foster let out a moan against her lips. “No foreplay?” She whispered.

Sloane just grinned and giggled, kissing her again. The night was young, and this was just the beginning. Teasing in circles, she took in the soft curls at Addison’s center, delicious and sopping with carnal desire.

“Please...Sloane...” Foster begged and tilted her hips. More of her. All of her. She needed to feel.

Sloane soothed her throbbing flesh in long strokes, teasing her from the outside.

Addison moaned loud and her eyes fluttered in the back of her head. She moved her hips, catching a rhythm with the Security Director, her breaths saturated with desire as she cried louder until Sloane pushed inside of her, causing a small, satisfied noise to escape her lips. Addison to dug her fingernails into the bare flesh of her back and bucked, urging Sloane to take as much as she could.

Pain registered along Sloane's shoulder blades where Addison's fingernails drew blood, but it was a delicious kind of pain. One that urged her to keep going. Harder. Faster.

Cries echoed off the bulkheads of the broken compartment, likely out into the broken station. No one cared. She didn’t care. All that Sloane wanted was to lose herself in this fog, the cacophony of sound, sensation, and Foster Addison as she exploded into her hand and Sloane soaked herself through.

Oh this wasn’t over. Sloane grinned and laughed through labored breaths.

Foster laughed too. Her gaze was sticky and as pasted to her flesh as the damp reddish hair on her brow. She trembled as she accepted a kiss from her lover. “Don’t stop..” she breathed as Sloane stripped off the rest of Foster's clothes and removed her own boxers.

“That’s not happening,” Sloane purred in a husky voice that burned Foster at her center. She stood for a moment, allowing Foster to take in the sight of her. Even though they had been working closely together for weeks, Foster had only seen a preview when treating Sloane for injuries sustained during her fight with Falarn and his goons. She'd been particularly fond of her ink, which covered a good portion of her body, and a few moles on her shoulders and backside. Knowing that Foster liked what she saw, Sloane flexed her muscles for her benefit and posed.

"Tease." Addison reached out and brushed her hand against Sloane's arm and then her flat, washboard stomach. 

"Oh I haven't even begun to tease you." Sloane grinned and couldn't help a seductive wink at Foster and her nakedness, spread out before her, her alabaster skin dramatic against the dull light of the room. Seeing her like this, it was impossible to remember that this was the same sarcastic asshole she met at Jien Garson’s party, or the same woman she had rescued from that pile of rubble outside 00. The same one that refused her hand, scoffed at her, thought of her as some sort of rustic; the same prissy woman who refused to come out of that tower, and if everything had gone right, likely would never. Locked in her fancy little office with her tea and wine and head full of charts and figures and Jien Garson.

Sloane settled back on the sofa and threw Foster’s legs around her hips. No arguments this time, no name-calling, nothing but the two of them and the way she felt, the way she convulsed and her eyes fluttered, the noises that escaped her lips as Sloane pushed back inside, her warmth surrounding her, clenching down as she moved in long, deliberate strokes. She looked animalistic and bit her lip as she grinned at being reduced from soulless Director to ordinary woman, who wanted this; wanted her; wanted sex.

“Sloane...” Addison begged again and flailed toward her, trying to pull her close.

“Foster...” Sloane replied, breathless, rocking her hips as she moved in and out of her.

Addison’s cries grew louder, Sloane with her, again filling the air with a cacophony only silenced by the loss of reality to the closeness of connection; of each other.

“Is that all you know how to do?” Foster breathed with a grin. She was being mean on purpose. Dirty. She gripped Sloane, rolling her off the sofa and onto the cold floor.

Sloane lay on her back and grinned. “Show me how it’s done,” she challenged her lover.

Foster shook her head disapprovingly. “Mm mm. Turn around,” she ordered and gestured.

This was getting good.

Ordinarily, Sloane didn’t like having her back to people, but Foster gave her no reason to distrust her, and if she was going to die now, there were definitely worse ways to go.

Sloane’s backside was as much of a tapestry as her front. A large unit tattoo encompassed her back and connected with the half sleeves and swirls that made their way down to her shapely ass. It was also dotted with small constellations of dark moles that Addison couldn’t help but start by kissing. First, a small network on her shoulder that Addison remembered fondly from that time in the office after Falarn’s attack. No bruises today, except the good kind, she mused, and rewarded that thought with a kiss to the back of Sloane’s neck, the small dark curls of her hair tickling her nose and filling the air of the heady scent that she was fast associating with someone she appreciated.

Down her broad shoulders and her back she went, licking and nibbling her velvet flesh, savoring the way she tasted. She held the Security Director at her sides as she made handsome little noises and writhed delectably.

On her ass cheeks, Sloane had a few artfully placed moles that attracted Foster’s lips and brought a laugh from somewhere within Sloane.

“I knew you’d eventually kiss my ass,” Sloane joked.

Foster darkened and she gave Sloane’s cheek a healthy slap.

“Ooh...” Sloane responded and laughed harder. She gathered her arms under her chin and seemed to be hiding a reddened face behind her elbow. It didn’t seem to hurt her as much as it did bother her in other ways.

Foster bit her lip mischievously and gave her a harder slap.

“Ow!” Sloane exclaimed, but the giggles behind her voice belied any real pain. She twisted her hips and begged with an unintelligible noise. Something new, and something definitely to be played with.

Foster parted Sloane's center and pressed against her clit, teasing her. Sloane let out a louder noise and tensed, the muscles of her ass cheeks clenching in a way that invited another hearty slap.

Sloane cried out unintelligibly and rolled onto her back. Her chest heaved, her eyes were dark and heavy. She reached out a shaky hand and Addison took it, suddenly concerned with what she saw. The normal rough and tumble Security Director was completely unglued.

It’s all right, Foster said with her eyes, giving Sloane a kiss on her mouth and then her jaw, her neck, her chest. She took one of Sloane’s breasts in her mouth and devoured, suckling gently on her darkened nipple.

“Foss...” Sloane cried, rolling her hips. "Harder..." Whatever strength she had before was gone and she was completely lost under her touch. She felt Addison's lips and tongue swirl around her nipples more intently, tugging and twisting in a way that drove her crazy. “Foster...please...” she begged, wanting nothing more than to feel her lover inside of her. Like the irritating woman she was, Foster took her time, licking every inch of her between her breasts and her hips, hands working her over like no one ever had.

Sloane was sure a puddle developed under her ass. Would Addison lick that too? The thought sent her mind over the edge and she flailed out to grip something, the underside of the sofa, empty air, a shirt.

Finally, Foster made her way back to her pussy and pushed her nose into her. She kissed long, deep, salaciously, enough that Sloane convulsed involuntarily, gushing against her lover’s face. Addison’s hands gripped her, pulling her close as she devoured and then pushed her fingers inside of her.

Sloane’s cries were no longer human and unsure of where they were coming from. Energy escaping wherever; into the air and into Foster’s mouth until she had completely left the this room, the station, the galaxy and then returned to where Foster waited for her.

The freckled face of the Director of Colonial Affairs was smiling through a haze slick with sex. She cradled Sloane in her hands and kissed her forehead gently.

“Please don’t let it be over,” Sloane heard herself say. The words felt far off but came from somewhere deep within her.

“That’s not happening,” Foster repeated with a wry smile.

“Very funny,” Sloane countered lazily and accepted a kiss on her lips. She tasted herself along with something she, for once, knew to be hope.

For the first time since arriving in Andromeda, hope burned alive on the Nexus. In that little room and between Director Foster Addison and Director Sloane Kelly, repeatedly, until neither of them had any more strength to continue.


	16. A Fine Line To Walk

A sound at the door startled Foster Addison out of what she realized had been an alcohol-induced nap. Or...judging by the time on the chronometer on her Omni-Tool, a “sleep” as Sloane would have called it.

Picking herself off the sofa, she checked around just in case she had traveled back in time, or woken up in some reality where Sloane Kelly was still on this bloody station; and also if there weren’t certain asari Nexus Security deputies in here to witness something even more incriminating. Doctor Aridana did say that there was evidence of space/time distortions in the Scourge.

Sweeping her eyes around the room, she took in the familiar sight of the desk and her array of datapads in their haphazard piles, desk lamp which was still on and the half empty bottle of Angaran wine. Along the walls hung her smattering of meaningless paintings, and the corners were dotted with planter boxes filled with lifeless dirt. It was an attempt to redress this room from what it once was, but memories still clung to the walls like the faint smell of her in this couch.

Grumbling to herself, Foster picked herself to her feet just as another chime jarred the last wisps of Sloane Kelly from her mind.

“I’m coming! Hang on a minute,” Foster responded and straightened her uniform as she rose. Catching a glimpse of herself in one of the datapads, Foster swore and patted down her hair as best she could before making her way to the door.

It slid aside, revealing an Alex Ryder who looked about as tired and worn out as Foster felt. “Am I catching you at a bad time?” She asked. There was hope in her voice that Foster would simply dismiss her to the promise of her soft bed on the Tempest.

Remembering why Addison had asked the Pathfinder here, she could offer no such fortune to her colleague and motioned for her to follow. “No, please come in.”

Making her way back to her desk, Foster paused before the empty bottle. “Care for some?” She asked.

Alex shook her head, a small smile on her lips before she sat down on the sofa. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier. I know you said it was urgent.”

Foster sat in the chair behind her desk and looked out at Alex, her mind caressing over thoughts of Sloane again and the message brought to her from Spender earlier. A coldness permeated the room, as though ghosts from the past lingered.

Sloane was still alive, she reminded herself angrily and set aside the empty bottle. Pulling open a drawer near her feet, she grabbed another one and poured a drink.

“That bad huh?”

Foster stopped herself and looked down at the brown liquid and flushed in embarrassment. “You’re right. Drinking won’t solve this problem.” She sighed curtly. “How much do you know about Sloane Kelly?”

Alex sat back on the sofa and shrugged. “Everything that the security logs had to say. If you’re wondering, Sloane didn’t go into much detail. In fact, she kept things pretty short and abrasive. I know she was trained by the Alliance, an N6 at one point, but had struggles with disciplinary issues--”

“To put it mildly,” Addison said and rose from her chair.

“Well, I can’t criticize.” Alex’s response was cryptic, but she offered nothing further. “I know she was Security Director here before she mysteriously decided to switch sides and join the rebels, or whoever they were.”

Foster sat at the end of the desk. Her heart pounded nervously as she braced herself for the consequences of what she was about to reveal next. “They were station workers led by Calix Corvannis.”

“I read about him,” Alex said.

Foster nodded. “He and his people had been brought out of stasis to keep us all from suffocating...Sloane revived them personally along with Kesh and had been working closely with them to help repair the Nexus as well as repair all of us...” Addison’s voice trailed off and she fidgeted. “We were starving. The decision to ration did not go over well with everyone. Down there,” Addison motioned with her head to indicate the lower portions of the Nexus, “the other workers looked to Calix as a leader. We didn’t know at the time, but Sloane was trying to negotiate with him; she didn’t tell us. She was with him when the Krogan attacked.”

“You mean when Tann sicced the Krogan on everyone,” Alex said cautiously.

Foster nodded and met her gaze. Alex’s eyes were curious, questioning, non-judgmental, but she could tell that the Pathfinder was trying to decide whose side she wanted to be on. She’d met Sloane already and gotten her story, and up until now, she had whatever lies came from Tann.

“Sloane was always difficult. She was more a woman of the people than she was one of us, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. Just different...she and I, we’re different sides to that argument of mission versus people. For me, the mission comes first. It’s a regrettable position to be in, and it’s why I have so many bottles in my desk, but there are thousands of people on this station and thousands more aboard your ship. We can’t always consider the needs of a small number of people, and I think that’s what frustrated her the most, but her attention to them is something I admired...I just couldn’t tell her...” Foster trailed off. She pushed off from the desk, poured herself a glass and drank.

“That’s always a fine line to walk,” Alex said cautiously again and sat forward. “However, when we lose ourselves to protect the idea, we lose that idea.”

“That’s what I’ve become to realize,” Foster said. She drank more and sat against the edge of the desk once more. She regarded Alex for a moment. It wasn’t just physical exhaustion that tugged along her edges, it was the wear and tear that came with her work in the field, the loss of her father, the uncertainty that Andromeda had left everyone with. It was the same look that she remembered Sloane having, except Sloane’s was far worse.

Memories of that last day with Sloane surfaced once more, and how she looked, broken and bloody across from Foster. Lost. Questioning. Betrayed.

Foster stiffened, doing her best to shove aside the regret that came with such a memory. “The last several months, Tann has been sending APEX on missions to look for Sloane and the Exiles as you probably read. What you haven’t read is that Kandros and I believe that not only is it a waste of valuable resources but...”

“You couldn’t let her go.” Alex rose and folded her arms across her chest. The knowing look on her face caused a chill of embarrassment in Foster’s blood.

“Believe me, Pathfinder, Sloane is the last person I would have imagined being concerned about. I’m glad to know she is alive and well...though, your reports raise some questions I’d like to ask her...maybe with the back of my hand. Up to this point, Kandros and I have been doing what we could to ensure that APEX’s missions were unsuccessful. However, now that we know where she is, I can’t protect her any longer.”

“Sending a full scale APEX assault on Kadara Port would be bad form with the Angara. I can’t see him doing that.” Alex joined Addison against the desk and poured herself a drink.

“No, that would only prove our instability with them, and we are just beginning negotiations.”

“Can you prove that Tann has hired an assassin?” Alex drank.

Addison shook her head. “No. It’s a suspicion based on information I was forwarded this morning.”

“Any leads as to who it might be?”

“No. Just that there is someone. Look for anyone who appears suspiciously close to her.”

Alex laughed. “That could be anyone. If I had to use one word to describe Sloane right now, it would be ‘Paranoid.’ She keeps company only with people she feels comfortable with, and that includes the guards around her. Of course, like with anyone in a position of authority, there are roaches that skitter about her feet. Could be one of them.”

“Honestly, could be anyone. Calix betrayed her as much as...” Foster swallowed that last thought and took the glass from Alex and drank.

“Go easy,” Alex said and patted Addison on the shoulder. “I appreciate the heads up, Director, and...I’ll look out for her for you.”


	17. Heroes

“Really?” Alex Ryder’s head swirled as she made her way from Foster Addison’s office, through the Commons Area, and to the docking port where the Tempest sat. The last thing she wanted was getting mixed up in more drama, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that despite her best efforts, she was already mixed up in it.

“You never told me about this part, dad,” Alex grumbled, lifting her eyes to the darkening Nexus sky. Lights around the station had dimmed to simulate early evening. Unlike The Citadel back home, Kesh had made a point to give the Nexus a more organic feel with day/night cycles as well as changes in temperature and localized weather patterns. While some residents were a little flabbergasted by it, Hydroponics was loving it as it was increasing the growth rates of the plants still struggling to survive.

Anything to help oxygen, water, and food production was good. And so, Alex Ryder had offered any amount of assistance that she and the Tempest crew could manage. It wasn’t much, but data she was able to bring back on Heleus flora as well as experiments both Suvi and Lexi were conducting were proving to be invaluable for everyone.

At least there was some good news to come out of today.

She rubbed her temples as she stepped off the tram. Her eyes settled on the neck folds of Keri T’Vessa whose back was turned as she leaned up against the railing overlooking the Tempest. What a welcome surprise, Alex thought, feeling her headache subside and a smile stretch across her face.

Under the purple sky and rising amber of the soft lamps lining the edges of the walkway, the ordinariness of the docking port seemed romantic, and it brought up the purples in Keri’s skin as well as made the light blue spots and stripes of her headcrests stand out.

“I wasn’t expecting you again, today,” Alex said with humor as she reached Keri.

Keri chuckled and turned around. She was still dressed in the white and green uniform from earlier, but unlike other meetings, her camera was off. “I’m sorry to disappoint,” she joked.

Alex made a face and felt herself deflate as she fully realized the new mission she had been assigned: Things were a lot more serious than she imagined. Tann, hiring an assassin to kill a former member of the Nexus staff, someone he had sentenced to Exile and was no longer on the station, and regardless of whether he liked it or not, Sloane was a world leader.

“I’m sorry,” Keri ventured, detecting the discomfort in the Pathfinder. She touched Alex’s hand lightly and moved closer. “Care to tell me?”

While she trusted Keri, Addison's information was shared in confidence and could be deadly to not only Addison, but to anyone else who knew. “Every day, I discover how much more there is to hate about politics,” Alex said.

Keri chuckled. “Tell me about it. But, that is the name of the game.”

“Greetings Pathfinder,” another voice said from beside the two of them.

It was a young, blonde haired human named Alice. No one knew her last name, only that she was and that she liked to play music for travelers at the docking port. Sometimes they gave her credits, sometimes they stopped to play.

Alex had given up trying to figure out her motives, and merely enjoyed her presence. Coming back to the Nexus and seeing Alice with her cello meant everything was still normal. She waved politely and turned her attention to Keri.

Despite the fact she knew, Alex chose to ask Keri just to gauge her response. “How did it go today?”

Keri waved her hand dismissively and looked away. “Fine. More of the same: _‘Keri, we gotta stay on message’_. You know...that politics garbage you were talking about.” Keri sighed in frustration. “Still, I complain but it’s nothing you should be worried about.” Her face softened as light string music fluttered into the air. She looked beautiful in this light and the romance of the music betrayed the seriousness of the situations they both found themselves in.

That fact didn’t seem to be lost on Keri as she lifted a smile to Alex. She hadn’t come here to talk politics or come up with a battle plan, she’d come here, off the record for one thing and that was to see Alex.

“Keri--” Alex started.

“--No, it wasn’t fine,” Keri blurted out. Tears of frustration rimmed around her eyes. “The more interaction with that little toad, the more I want to shove my camera up somewhere shady.” Her voice was as tight as her jaw, obviously biting down on more choice words, but not trusting her surroundings. She glanced at Avina not far off and rubbed her forehead.

Alex was quiet for a moment and nodded. “I had a meeting with Addison earlier. She, well...”

Keri snorted. “You weren’t there to see her being her usual muted fleshy lump while he arrogantly tried to dictate what I put out there. Against the law, mind you, not that he cares about those in the least bit.”

“Keri, I want you to listen to me. Please don’t air my interview tomorrow,” Alex said.

The HNS reporter let out an exasperated sigh. “Not you too.”

Alex felt a shiver as tears fell down Keri’s cheeks. The last thing she wanted was to tell her no. “Keri, I’m worried. You’re right, we can’t trust him.” She approached and took Keri’s hands in hers. “There are things going on around here that you don’t know either. Things that worry me.”

“And what about all of that you said to me this morning? Since we met, you’ve been encouraging me in my mission to be the one honest reporter in either galaxy, and here you are.”

“Right. Here I am,” Alex said and flailed her arms at her sides. “The more we antagonize him, the worse it’s going to get. There are monsters about that I can't always protect you from. Even if he doesn't retaliate with violence, he can still hurt you and I... Keri, you haven’t seen what life is like for people out there.” Alex gestured to the darkened sky.

“Then show me.” Keri said defiantly, letting go of Alex. Wiping tears from her face, she paced back toward the balcony, her eyes back on the Tempest. The ship was lit dramatically by floodlights under the Scourge twinkling into view.

Alex made an exasperated noise.

“I listened to that man threaten me today...” Keri growled angrily, her back still turned, her shoulders tensed. “Fights aren’t always won with bullets and bloodshed. Putting pressure on men like Tann is how we win.”

“At what cost, Keri? I lost my father already. I nearly lost my brother...I can’t lose you.” Alex said softly, approaching her, but keeping a respectful distance. She knew Keri to be softhearted, but to a point. While she had never taken a swing at her, Keri was still a fighter and there was always a first time.

Keri let out a sigh and her shoulders relaxed. She turned, the light from one of the lamps warming her supple cheeks and creating dramatic shadows along the soft lines of her brow and nose: She looked as fearless as she was.

Advancing on Alex, she took the Pathfinder’s hands once more and smiled gently. “I care about what happens, too. I don’t want to die, but it’s not just about us. If we let him get away with violence it will just create more, and not just for you and me.

“I lived for nearly half a century with nowhere to go. People in my profession...we often think about the job that we are asked to perform. We may not be Pathfinders, but our mission is just as important. For those of us ordinary people who aren’t out there on front lines of some alien world, or in the bowels of the station with the repair teams, or shaking the galaxy with important decisions, it’s essential that we know the world we live in now. It isn’t lost to us that what we do also impacts the heroes who are out there on the front lines making a better life. Telling lies benefits no one, especially not you. Before the Initiative, I witnessed the worst there was to offer: Lies upon lies spun for the benefit of the rich and privileged with everyone in between suffering. I came here to change that.”

As always, Keri was right and in this moment, Alex had never felt more in love. “You are the true hero in all this, Keri T’Vessa.”

Keri laughed sardonically. “I’m not the one out there dodging bullets and opening alien vaults.”

Squeezing Keri’s hands, Alex pulled her close. “You were right. You don’t need a gun to be a hero.” She kissed Keri’s forehead and slipped her hands around her waist, swaying gently with the music as it grew louder and into a song that they both recognized.

Keri giggled softly and moved with Alex. “I’m reminded of one of those parties that my mother used to throw. Except...the company is far more pleasant.”

Alex smiled down at Keri and kissed her forehead again. Her scales were soft and her body felt like home. If this had been any other time in her life, Alex would have spoiled the moment by now, and possibly the entire relationship with Keri. What a difference six hundred years can make.

Keri let out a giggle as she broke away and twirled only to be caught expertly in Alex’s arms. For this one moment, the stresses of the world around them were gone. Only the promise of a bright future remained. One filled with laughter, love. Keri was a perfect dance partner, both here and in life, picking up where Alex left off, moving as though she were somehow able to read her mind. In Keri’s arms, Alex felt like for the first time in her life, she was someplace she was always meant to be.

The song concluded and Alex slowly let Keri go. She didn’t want to and Keri looked saddened for a moment.

“That was...” Keri’s voice drifted off and she looked adorably flustered for a moment. “I um...I only have a few more episodes in the documentary, but...” her expression changed and she looked alarmed for a moment and as though she wanted to cry.

Alex’s heart broke unexpectedly. “Keri?”

Keri took Alex’s hand once more and looked directly into her eyes. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

Alex offered a smile filled with reassurance and all of the love in her heart. “Promise.”

Keri nodded, still looking unsure. “You should go,” she said. “The faster you depart the sooner you’ll be back here to dance with me some more.”

Not wanting to leave just yet, Alex pulled Keri close once more. Just to feel her body press against her, get lost in her eyes and smile one last time. And a beautiful smile it was, lit softly under the lights, the night surrounding her like an elegant dress made of stars and the whispers of plants. It was just the two of them out here at the moment, and Alice, who had stopped playing and watched expectantly.

As if this had been planned all along.

What would Suvi say? Something about this being meant to be. Was that a thing? Alex’s eyes lingered on Keri’s supple lips and reading her as she always did, Keri parted them and exhaled slowly. It would be so easy, and would anything change? Probably not.

Keri offered a soft smile and lifted a hand which she removed from one of her gloves. She pressed her lavender color fingers to Alex’s lips gently. “Not yet,” she whispered. “But...yes.”

Alex smiled in embarrassment and felt Keri grip her by her uniform lapels and the press of her lips against her cheek. She closed her eyes, relishing in the way Keri felt, the way she smelled, the hint of future that her kiss left behind. It was like someone had broken open the universe and out tumbled the greatest secret.

“That...was a mistake...” Keri said breathlessly as she pulled away. She was exposed, soft, and more hers than she had been earlier today.

Swallowing the urge to grab Keri and kiss her, Alex stayed where she was and allowed herself to catch her breath. “Think of it as a reward. Finish your documentary, tell our truths, and I will finish saving the galaxy.”

Keri couldn’t help a laugh. “Oh is that all,” she said sarcastically and then turned serious. “It’s a deal.”

Alex bowed slightly, her cheeks warming in excitement. “Goodnight, Keri T’Vessa.”

Keri bowed in reply. “Goodnight, Alex Ryder.”

Before more emotions could overtake her, Alex turned and made her way through the doors to the gangplank.


	18. Fine Line

Above the docking port, Foster Addison had come out of her apartment to enjoy a moment of “night” air and the rare quiet that came with tonight. With the Tempest leaving soon, thankfully, her raucous downstairs neighbor would be going with them along with her annoying loud music and disregard for everyone else in this Habitat wing.

The sound of string music from the Observation Deck caught her attention and she cast her eyes downward at the sight below and the Pathfinder and the reporter swaying together in each other’s arms: What a picture of hope they were, and how much everyone needed to see what Foster was witnessing: A Pathfinder falling for the most unlikely person.

Smiling to herself, Foster mused how far things had come from just a year ago. How close everything was to being normal. There was that word again: Normalcy.

Was it normalcy she was feeling or complacency?

Lifting her head skyward, Foster gazed at the swirling tendrils of dark energy. What was ‘normal’ for her, was a different ‘normal’ for Sloane. She was out there. And if she were here, she would be quick to remind Foster that regardless of how soft this witnessed moment was, they were still surviving; she was still surviving.

A year ago, this entire area had been unrecognizable. Shuttered on Sloane’s insistence that the idea of keeping a door open for a non-existent Ark was a fruitless waste of resources. She’d been right then, but the decision hadn’t sat well with the Security Director and shortly after that night in the office, Foster found Sloane atop this building.

\- - - - - - - - - 

Whether it was night or day was left up to the mysteries far behind the Nexus. Making her way through the door leading back into the bowels of the twisted habitat level, Foster Addison fixed her eyes on the figure sitting on a twisted bench next to what would have been a beautiful sitting area filled with trees...if everything had gone to plan.

Sloane looked small, silhouetted against the darkened sky, the bones of the Nexus stretched out before her like a great creature picked clean by some vulturous monster. Like the Scourge, swirling menacingly just beyond as if to mock her and the rest of the station inhabitants. This was the highest point that Sloane could get to without a breathing mask, and according to Sergeant Talini, a spot she liked to come to when she wanted time to herself.

Since that day in the office, Foster’s relationship with Sloane had grown only more complicated. In her simplicity, Sloane was a complex soul, and was more hurt and scared than others realized. As a result, Sloane had done her best to push Foster away, remaining distant and disappearing into the bowels of the station away from everyone except Kesh and her work crews.

Tann objected and Addison had at first, but realizing that Sloane was reaching a breaking point, Foster let her have her space. However, the more absent Sloane had been, the emptier Operations felt, and the more problems it created.

Including the one that brought Foster finally down to this part of the station.

“What the hell do you want?” Sloane’s voice wasn’t quite a growl, but she made no attempts to disguise her anger.

Foster hesitated for a moment. She was still a safe distance behind the bench in case the Security Director wanted to take a swing at her. Honestly, she wouldn’t blame Sloane for doing so, and in hindsight, she probably deserved it. With that in mind, she urged her feet forward and faced Sloane from the unoccupied end.

Sloane sat back, her arm across the metal back of the bench, with her leg crossed over her knee in a handsome manner that momentarily distracted Foster from the seriousness of this moment.

“I wanted to find you.”

“Well, you found me,” Sloane said flatly, her tone prickled with anger. “Now, leave me alone.” She lifted her eyes to Foster.

Even in the darkness, the Colonial Affairs Director could detect the disappointment in her face. It broke her heart and such a rejection brought a swirl of emotion that any intelligent comeback from Foster could only be expressed by a dumb nod of her head. “Of course.”

Sloane had every right to be angry with her, not want anything to do with her, but it hurt all the same. Foster bit down on her emotions as she made her way back to the door.

A sigh stopped her footsteps. “Wait.”

Sloane now stood in front of the bench, her expression changed from disappointment to one of relented exhaustion. She fidgeted with her fingers at her waist and then gestured for Foster to join her. “Did Tann send you?”

“No,” Foster replied, taking a seat beside her colleague, and at one time, her lover.

Sloane sat back where she had been but remained close. An arc from a welding torch nearby lit half of her face, casting it in a dramatic light. She looked as though she’d aged since Foster since last saw her, the stresses, undoubtedly, finally getting to her. It had taken longer than Addison had imagined, but she feared the end result. As stoic as she was, Sloane was a passionate soul, led more by her heart than anything else. It was something that both irritated Foster and she admired about her.

“You were right to send the scouts,” Sloane admitted.

Surprise.

“I feel like I should have a celebration hearing you say that,” Foster joked.

Sloane made a face. “Celebrate the fact that I didn’t punch you when you walked up.”

“To be fair, I was expecting that.”

Sloane snorted. “Now isn’t the time to be at each other’s throats. Regardless of how much we irritate each other, we’re all they’ve got,” she nodded at the work crews below. Another welding torch lit up the night. “If we fracture, they do. And we all die.”

Foster nodded in agreement.

“Do you think it’ll work?”

“I can’t afford not to hope it will. If it’s success, then we may have bought ourselves a chance. If not...we took a big risk—I took a big risk—and we will be worse off than we were. But...if we don’t try, we fail automatically.” Foster was more talking to herself than she was to Sloane, but her colleague nodded along.

Sloane sat back on the bench once more and draped her arm across the back and around Foster.

Smiling inwardly at the passive possessiveness, Addison moved closer and leaned against Sloane. She was solid, warm, and her clothes smelled as freshly as they could.

“I don’t want to die, Foss,” Sloane rumbled. Her eyes returned skyward.

 _“I looked upon the rotting sea,_  
And drew my eyes away;  
I looked upon the rotting deck,  
And there the dead men lay. “ Foster recited, following Sloane up to the tendrils of “matted hair” she once called them.

This drew a reaction from Sloane. “I thought you hated poetry,” she quipped. Another arc lit the dashing smile across her face.

Addison made a face, recalling her earlier declaration. “I loathe it when I receive Scourge updates written in Haikus.”

That seemed to break the tension on Sloane’s face and she couldn’t help a chuckle. “Let them have fun, Foss. What little fun there is left to have.” She slipped her arm off the back of the bench and around Addison’s midsection.

It was a fine line to walk. Paranoia disguised as vigilance was just as much of a killer as apathy. Knowing what was apathy and what was paranoia at this stage was impossible. However, the question remained of what more could be done. That was the question that Sloane was really asking, and that was the one written on her body as she held her. She felt good, this felt good. Too good for a place like this. Addison’s heart pounded in her chest as she searched Sloane’s face in the darkness.

An arc lit her features.

Sloane’s expression softened, but her eyes were taught with an exhaustion brought about by pain. Endless pain and more than enough for the both of them. Seeing it in the ordinarily stalwart Security Director, who had been quick to lend a word of encouragement or distract Foster from her own thoughts when she needed it, was enough to break her heart.

Gently, she touched Sloane’s lips with bare fingers and marveled when the soft skin gave way to the pressure of her fingertips until she met the hard bone underneath.

“Sometimes, this doesn’t seem real,” Addison mused. “Like the two of us are trapped in some nightmare and all of this is some figment of my imagination,” she gestured to the bones of the station as they were lit up by another arc. 

Sloane turned her eyes skyward and Foster laid her head on her shoulder.

 _"I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;_  
But or ever a prayer had gusht,  
A wicked whisper came, and made  
My heart as dry as dust. " The next verse rumbled in Sloane’s breast and floated through the air, more beautiful than Foster remembered. Ominous and spoken with the broken heart that remained despite her best efforts.

Addison wrapped her arms around Sloane tightly, hoping it would be enough to squeeze the torment from her companion, her colleague, her lover.

Foster lifted her eyes and found Sloane’s were back on her. An arc lit her features, casting them again in dramatic shadow. Her expression was softer, contemplative, and confused as though she were trying to decide whether or not to be angry.

Unable to resist, Foster pressed her lips to Sloane’s and felt the Security Director push back, her hand slipping behind her head to hold her close. She kissed long, deep, fervent, as if grasping onto Addison to avoid drowning.

Instead, Foster pulled Sloane by her uniform collar and down on top of her; from the surface of the nightmare to the depths of the humanity that had been forgotten. Foster gasped as Sloane hands were on her torso and then the flesh of her stomach underneath her shirt and uniform jacket. Calloused, heavy, raw.

Sloane kissed across Foster’s jaw. Her body pressed heavenly on hers and she straddled Addison’s hips like she had a few nights ago. She tugged lightly at the flesh of her neck, causing Foster to inhale her name sharply.

Foster’s hands went to Sloane’s chest, unfastening her Security Uniform tunic while taking a moment to feel her breasts in her hands and the solid muscles of her abdomen.

Sloane made a noise and sat up. Her face was flushed and her eyes glittered in the dark. “Not here...” she breathed in a smoky voice. She stood and pulled Addison to her feet while collecting the clothes that had since been removed.

Was that it? Foster wondered, looking at Sloane with disappointment.

“Come on...” Sloane said, taking her by the hand and leading her back into the bowels of the apartment complex.

Most of the units were less than safe to use. Either parts of the station had fallen from the roof and now threatened a sizzling end if further entry was attempted, or potentially bloody. However, further down than Addison had ventured, several of the units were still salvageable.

“Most of the locks on these doors are stuck, but...” Sloane paused by one about midway through the deck and forced the door open.

“Is this somewhere you come to hide?” Foster asked, following her inside.

“No...I stumbled on this by accident.” Sloane tossed the uniform jackets that she held in her hands onto the floor.

Foster looked around. Like other rooms on the Nexus, it was lit minimally by the emergency lights, but it was enough that she could see that the furniture and fixtures were largely intact including the mattress rolled against the headboard to the twin bed against the wall.

At one point, this was to have been a standard room assignment for someone. Who? That was lost to the ages. However, unlike its counterparts elsewhere on the Nexus, this apartment had fared better than the others and might be salvageable. “We should see about assigning this one, unless you already have your eye on it.”

“I thought this might be a good place for the two of us,” Sloane joked. She wandered a few meters away from Addison and clapped her hands in front of her, while looking as attractive as possible.

“I never took you for the type to play House,” Foster jabbed in amusement.

A shrug from Sloane’s shoulder gave away more than it covered up, and Addison momentarily felt sorry for making fun. She approached the Security Director and tried to do her best to imagine this space in one of those alternate realities that the classic shows from Earth liked to depict:

Suddenly, the darkness faded and was replaced by the bright light of the simulated sunlight brought in by the sunlamps, or maybe windows if Kesh could be bothered. Despite the haphazardness of Sloane tossing her clothes onto the floor, the floor was spotless, everything tidy and in their place, and the house smelling sweetly of citrus and whatever laundry detergent that Sloane preferred. She guessed something...meaty to suit her personality.

In this pretend universe, Foster was coming through the door after a long day, weary, exhausted, sore and Sloane was there looking like this now in her clean cut Alliance T-Shirt, tattooed arms folded across her chest, looking...impatient? The idea was ridiculous, and in no way could she imagine herself coming home to Sloane of all people.

Foster broke into a smile and shook her head while taking Sloane by the hand. “It’s a thought, for sure,” she said and hesitated on her dismissal. Stranger things had happened. Sloane was irritating but had proven herself thusfar. “I could imagine worse things,” she admitted. “But, only if I pick out the drapes.”

“No lace.” Sloane moved closer.

“It would look better than ammunition belts and bed sheets you’d pick out,” Foster retorted.

“At least they would cost nothing,” Sloane replied and wrapped her arms around Foster’s waist again.

Addison allowed herself to lose herself for a moment in the way Sloane looked at her for a moment. Need was still there, want, echoing what burned between Foster’s thighs. She and kissed Sloane’s lips again and nudged her toward the bed. “You presume that I would have to purchase them.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a knitter.” Sloane chuckled.

“Keeps my hands busy,” Foster replied with a coy smile. She tugged on the hem of Sloane’s shirt and lifted it over her head, placing her fingers against the velvet tapestry of Sloane’s stomach and sliding them down to the buckle of her utility belt where Sloane kept her badge, a utility knife, and a pair of handcuffs.

Sloane made a small noise and pulled Foster to the mattress. Sloane had it unraveled in a moment and returned her attention to Foster, helping her out of her clothes.

“I feel at a disadvantage,” Sloane purred, referring to her pants and underwear which were still on her person.

Last time had been figuring out what each other liked, today would be about pleasure. Sloane had relaxed somewhat, but she could still feel her anxiety in her touch.

“I think, it’s time you let someone else be in control for a while.” Foster grinned devilishly and pulled Sloane’s handcuffs out of their holster.

“Foss...” Sloane started. She glanced at the cuffs and her face flushed as she tried to hide an embarrassed smile. She rubbed the back of her head and looked uncharacteristically shy for a moment.

“On your back,” Foster directed, motioning to the bed. 

\- - - - - - 

Sloane obeyed and laid on her back. Her pants were still unfastened and her underwear on. It was tempting to protest, but erring on the side of enjoying herself, she kept quiet.

Foster looked beautiful in this light, the soft amber from the emergency lamps caressing her naked skin and bringing out the freckles that dotted her shoulders and arms.

All of this was unfamiliar territory and the little voice of Sloane’s better judgment warned her that being restrained by the Director of Colonial Affairs was probably not the smartest idea. However, the way Foster felt straddling her lap, and the way her eyes smoldered was enough to quiet those fears.

Just enjoy, she reminded herself and watched Foster struggle at first with the cuffs.

Unlike older styles of handcuffs, or those seen in Blast-O movies, they were meant to accommodate multiple species and not just one or two. Foster looked confused at first. Just when Sloane was about to offer help, she figured it out and had successfully handcuffed Sloane’s wrists to the bedframe.

Foster flashed another grin hot enough to make Sloane’s thighs burn. Already forgetting where she was, Sloane moved to touch her and met the resistance of the cuffs.

Sloane let out a low chuckle which was more relief than anything: For once, not in control. It felt strange and a little disconcerting in a way, but in an exciting way. Even better was knowing that she could trust Foster like this.

Foster said nothing and dipped her head to Sloane, kissing her lips and then down her jaw, her neck, her torso, her lips leaving rivulets of electricity that danced through Sloane’s core and caused an uncontrolled moan to escape her lips.

Encouraged by the sound of pleasure from her lover, Foster took one of Sloane’s naked breasts in her mouth and rolled her nipple in her tongue.

Sloane shuddered and tugged against the handcuffs. If this was a normal fuck session, she would have her hands through Foster’s silken red hair, encouraging her to keep going, but no, this wasn’t a normal fuck session. This was something new and she liked it.

Foster licked over to her other breast and suckled intently, gazing up at her with flashing green eyes that made Sloane cry with pleasure.

“Don’t fight, Sloane,” Foster purred in a low voice and lifted her eyes once more as she kissed down her torso. The anger she felt before was gone, replaced with something new: Not love, appreciation, desire, but not of her, just to be touched...by her. And be looked at the way Foster looked at her now, expression full of lust and want as she dipped her head between her thighs.

Sloane gasped and arched her back into Addison anticipating what was to come next.

Instead, Foster traced her tongue teasingly around the outside of her, nipping at her tender flesh.

“Foss...” Sloane breathed again. Sloane’s thighs pounded and she ached in places she wanted to ache, but wanted so desperately for Foster to soothe. She tugged on her restraints again, wanting to direct Foster where to go but was reminded that she was at Foster’s mercy.

Foster grinned coyly and gave her a long lick up her drooling slit to tease.

Sloane let out a cry and closed her eyes. “Like that...” she breathed.

“You want more?” Foster asked. Her tongue dipped between Sloane’s lips.

The Security Director shuddered. “Yes...” She bit back a growl of pleasure.

“Tell me.” Addison teased.

“I just di--” Sloane’s words died as Addison pressed her nose into Sloane and teased her with long strokes of her tongue just outside of her. Letting out a loud, uncontrolled cry she nodded at the ceiling, “fuck me, Foss,” she begged.

Foster licked across Sloane’s entrance. The Security Director writhed against her handcuffs, her nipples taught against the cool air of the station. She tasted warm and sweet and of heady desire. Teasing had been the goal, but ultimately, Foster gave in and gave her a kiss that was deep and thorough.

Sloane cried out. No longer was she struggling against her chains, she was using them to match Foster’s rhythm as she devoured, tension pouring out of her center in waves that Foster was happy to drink in until Sloane gushed over her in a sea of orgasmic bliss and relaxed against her cuffs.

A laugh came from somewhere within Sloane and she spasmed as she felt Addison withdraw from her. Foster’s hair was pasted to her brow and her face glistened with Sloane. Crawling up from her torso, she gave Sloane a long, slow kiss.

The way Foster grinned through the kiss told Sloane she wasn’t done. 

Sloane moaned and rolled her hips in anticipation, eliciting a lecherous grind from Foster. It felt surprisingly good and Sloane tilted her hips to her lover. “Harder,” she breathed. She hadn’t remembered liking this before, but the salacious way Foster moved and the feel of her dripping pussy against hers was enough to send her into a roil.

Sloane bucked against Foster, relishing the sounds the Director of Colonial Affairs made as they both neared climax.

Abruptly, Foster stopped.

“What are you doing?” Sloane begged more than asked.

“Not like this...I want...it’s not enough.” Foster reached over and unshackled Sloane from the bed frame. “I want you to touch me,” she said, pulling Sloane on top of her.

The Security Director’s hands were on her body, kneading her flesh with carnal desire. Foster cried out against heavy kisses and wrapped herself around her lover as she plunged into the depths of her soul. Gone was the nightmare and the armor that came with fear. Sloane looked as raw as Addison felt and moved when she moved, possessing all of her until the Universe erupted into sound and color and neither had any more strength to continue.

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly the final draft, but I am still making edits for content, continuity, and grammaraararar.


End file.
